The Burn In The Notice
by aprill99
Summary: NCIS/Burn Notice/Bones. This is really just something that occured to me randomly when these shows were all having marathons at once. The NCIS and Bones teams team up to investigat the murder of a dead marine and a starnge series of events in Miami. Naturally this brings them into contact with Michael Westen and freinds. Rating is probably PG 13.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Matt Nix, Donald Belisario, and Hart Hanson are all fakers! The shows are all mine! Mine I say! Muhahaha! Muhahaha! Yeah, sadly. No.**

**Important little factoids: 1. Time fram is seriously not specified. For Burn Notice, it's probably post season 6 only forget how they said it ended. NCIS, whenever you want as long as Ziva is there. For Bones, Pre-Christine, Post-Hannah.**

**Tell me if this sucks and it will be immediately discontinued.**

"Bones! Bones! You in here?" special agent Seeley Booth called.

"Yes Booth. As I am nearly 63% of the time I am in fact, in my office," Temperance Brennan answered.

Booth walked into the room to find Bones sitting at her computer typing away. "Come on Bones! Pack a bag, we have a plane to catch."

Bones looked up from her computer. "I'm confused. How does me being in my office relate to our needing to catch a plane?"

"Because we have to get to Miami. We're meeting up with some agents from NCIS to investigate the murder of a dead marine," he said as he dragged her up from her seat and helped her into her coat.

"If it's a dead marine then how is the FBI involved?" Temperance Brennan was a genius, but that really didn't mean she had any clue about how government juristiction worked.

"It involves us because this Marine was working on a joint task force with the FBI. This involves you because no body can figure out how they died and we need some sciency jibber jabber to figure it all out."

"What about Cam and the others won't we need them?" The two were now out of the lab and in the chilly air. It was December in D.C and their was a light layer of snow on the ground. They made their way to Booth's government SUV as Booth answered.

"That's what the magic of video confrencing is for Bones," he climbed into the drivers seat. "We'll swing by your apartment and you can grab your things. Then we'll head to the airport."

"This soon?" Bones was pretty sure their was normally a bigger time gap between when a body was discovered and when they went to examine it if the body was out of state.

"Yeah well, The Bureau asked me too look into a series of unexplained explosions in the greater Miami area. Apparently they've been happening for months but they couldn't get an agent down their. I'm also supposed to check in to the deaths of a bunch of drug dealers and cartel members." He shoook his head in confusion.

Bones was confused too but for a very different reason, "Why do we care about a bunch of dead drug dealers and cartel members? Don't we normally arrest people like that?"

"Well yeah Bones, but if someone is going around killing people we've got to find them and figure out what exactly is wrong wth thteir mental settings."

"Well is it possible someone has simply decided that the world is better off without drug dealers and cartel members? Frankly I don't see why we should stop them if they're making our lives safer, who cares why or how they're doing it?" In her mind it really was just that simple. It made logical sense, so it made ense to her.

"Because, you can't just kill and disable people because they've done something wrong Bones. There are laws, it just isn't done."

"Well, isn't that basically your job discription? Disable the bad guys?"

"Their's a difference!"

"Not logically if the end result is the same. Besides, you were a sniper you killed plenty of bad people just because they did evil things. I fail to see the difference that you so insist is their."

Booth had had enough. "Okay! Enough! This conversation ends right here!"

"But Booth!" She protested. Bones was just begining to see that she had crossed some type of line.

"No just no! Okay Bones? In fact why don't we have silence until we get to the airport, Okay?"

After a moment of silence Bones stated, "Your mad at me."

Booth sighe and rolled his neck back to try and hold off the inevitable headache coming on, "I'm not mad, I just- I don't like bringing up my past okay?" He glanced accross at Bones who was still looking worried that she had offended him some how. "How 'bout we talk about somethig else? How's your new book coming? Any good scenes with me in them?"

"You're! Not! In! The! Book! Booth!"

"Oh come on! I am totally in your book!"

"No you're not!"

The argument continued all the way through Bones packing her bag, and even about 40 minutes into the flight. Little did they know, that down at the naval base, Special agent Timothy McGee and Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo were having a very similar argument.

**A/N: Well? What do you think? You love it? You hate? Let me Know! Eventually the NCIS team and the Bones team are going to meat up with a certain burned spy. Chaos will most definently ensue!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If I owned them I would be writing this why?**

"So you're telling me Special Agent Tommy is not based off me," Tony DiNozzo said.

"No Tony the CHARACTER is not. Read the disclaimer at the front of the book if you don't believe me. The book is Fiction, I'm telling the truth here." McGee said. The conversation had gotten so repetitive that Mcgee didn't even bother to look up from his typing.

"Ah! You say it's the truth but what if I can't handle the truth? Ever seen that movie? A Few Good Men?"

"I actually did see this movie. I think that perhaps I should be terrified." Ziva commented as she walked into the bull pen.

"Really?"

"I do occasionally watch American Movies Tony." she said, rolling her eyes. "They did have Cinemas in Israel, besides, I get AMC."

Tony fieled away that information for future refrence in his Ziva mental file. He had been working on extending it and he had learned alot since the explosion had blown up headquarters. "It's a great film. Tom Cruise plays a JAG lawyer trying to clear these marines of a murder charge. It's like our lives only, way more lawyery. Don't tell Gibbs about it."

"Don't tell me about what DiNozzo?" Agent Gibbs asked as he entered in true Gibbs fashion. He held a large cup of black coffee and looked like he had been up for a few hours already.

"Nothing boss." Gibbs gave him a look. "A Few Good Men, it's a great movie with-"

"Tom cruise. Plays a JAG lawyer."

He was met with stunned silence. "Favorite film. Ex-wife number three."

"Oh... Now that makes a lot more sense."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't here that DiNozzo, for the sake of your brain cells."

" And my brain cells thank you Boss."

"Well I'm going to need any you have left." Gibbs said as he extracted his gun, badge, and cell phone from his desk. "We've got a dead marine."

"Where Boss?" McGee asked. Glad that his book had been put on the back burner for the moment. Ziva and Tony were grabbing their gear bags and so was McGee.

"Miami. You're all going to need some over night bags."

"Ooooh Miami land of tropical drinks and string bikinis! You packing a swim suite Ziva? Should I bring my camera." Tony asked with a grin.

Ziva reagrded him with vaugue disgust, "It amazes me Tony that you can think about such things while we investigate a murder."

"So that's a no on the camera?"

"If you bring a camera and take pictures of me I will flay you allive with this combat knife." Ziva told him flipping over the deadly blade seamingly out of no where.

Tony just shrugged. "Oh well, I'll just have to make do with the ones I have."

"I told you and McGee to destroy those! Multiple times!"

Tony sensing the danger of being killed by the ex-Mossad operative searched for a way out. "Um, uh I gave them to McGee." he excused before sprinting towards the elevator and their waiting boss.

"Anthony DiNozzo Junior!" she shrieked and sprinted after him.

"Hey!" Gibbs snapped. "Do you two need a counselor or something?"

"No Gibbs." Ziva said. The whole team stepped into the elevator.

"Are we bringing Abby and Ducky?" McGee asked.

"No. We'll use video confrencing. Besides, Fornell said the agent he was sending to meet us works with a forensic anthropologist."

"We're working with the FBI?"

"Yeah, the marine that died was working on a task force with some FBI agents. And that makes this split juristdiction."

McGee voiced the thought they were all wondering. "Who's the anthropologist? Will she be okay in the feild?"

"The name's Temperance Brennan. She works in the feild a lot." The elevator dinged as it came to a halt at the parking garage. "You two should have a lot to talk about," he told McGee.

McGee was confused, "Why?"

Gibbs moved towards the car, "Because she also rights about her co-workers, best seller." he called.

**A/N: Reviews Please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Matt Nix, Don Belisario, and Hart Hanson are just completely bizzare middle aged male aliases for a mostly normal teenaged girl. I actually have always, and will always own them all.**

**Yeah, them and the Taj Mahal.**

**Right.**

**Maybe in an alternate reality**

Fiona Glennane and Michael Westen were not normal people. Normal people can't speak a minimum of five languages a piece. Normal people don't know how to blow up a building with bleach and tile spackle. And normal people defiantly don't have twelve possible identities to chose from. However non-normal people are often very good at pretending to be normal, so that's what Michael and Fiona were doing. At least, that's what they were attempting.

"Michael. We are supposed to be a happy couple at the Riviera," Fi criticized quietly into Michael's ear.

"Isn't that what we are Fi?"

She chuckled. "Michael I have seen KGB officers in interrogation rooms who had less tension in their neck muscles." she paused for a second and assessed his face, tacking special note of the tendons that stood out in sharp relief against his neck and jaw. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head slightly, "It's just post-job-paranoia acting up. I'm starting to think that any guy with a suite is a fed." He rolled his neck tierdly and glanced at Fiona. "Do you know a way to just turn off my brain for a while?"

Fi reached up and rubbed his neck gently, trying to relieve some of the tension. "The job went fine Michael. The marine was crooked. He was helping smuggle people into the country using information from the FBI. If you ask me the world is better off without him."

Michael sighed, "It's not that simple Fi. We took a man's life. It doesn't matter if he was evil in every possible sense of the word, he was still a marine who was working with the FBI. That means anyone who investigates his death will be reporting to two branches of government."

"So? What's one more set of feds to deal with? We've dealt with agents before and they all turned out to be tame as kittens in the end." In Fi's opinion government agents were a littlw like mosquitos. Sure they were annoying, but all they really did was whine.

"Because Fi! Twice the agencies means twice the agents, twice the resources, twice the hassle." he sighed and rolled his neck again. "We've dealt with the government before but it is never not a pain."

Fiona shrugged. "Well, we'll blow up that bridge when we come to it."

He sighed. "That's another thing we're going to have to cut back on for a little while until this whole thing has cooled down a little. We don't want to draw more attention to ourselves at the moment."

Fiona pouted for a moment before brightening up again, "Okay, well then you'll just have to take me to the fireing range," Michael groaned. "Now don't give me that Michael! The last time I didn't get to blow things up for an extended period of time I wound up fireing off shots in the apartment and you weren't happy with that plan either. So you can either take me to the fireing range tommorow, let me shoot things at your house, or find me a job where I get to blow things up!"

Michael sighed. "Fine. The fireing range it is."

Fiona narrowed her eyes, "You could sound a little happier about it Michael. We'll have a very nice time beating the range accuracy records."

Michael wrapped his arms lightly around her. "Fi, you know I enjoy shooting things with you. I'll get rid of Jesse and Sam and we'll bring a lunch. I'm sure it will be very enjoyable."

She snuggled back against his chest. "Your damn right it'll be enjoyable, besides, I have a lovely new 45 caliber I need to test out and it has been far to long since you had the chance to practice violence in a freindly, supportive, nurturing, enviornment."

Michael stopped for a second to try and process the obsurdity of the later part of the statement before finally giving up on it being completely and utterly impossible. "Yeah, a safe, supportive, nurturing, enviornment for violence."

"That's right."

Michael shook his head slightly and wrapped his suite jacket around Fiona's shoulders when she started to shiver. They stood watching the water for a moment. Michael was trying to work out his marine and FBI issues quietly inside his head while Fiona tried to figure out how to make him stop worrying about his marine and FBI issues. Eventually neither one of them could figure

**A/N: So? What do you think? I need to get opinions from more than 3 people. I have a lot to do and I need to know weather or not this is worth writing. I don't care if you hate it. I have to know so I can remove this virtual Japanease water torture from the internet and my computer hard drive forever. The point is, review! **

**P.S. In the next chapter Booth is going to meet Michael and Fiona at the fireing range.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Hahahahahahahahahahah,**

**No.**

After their flights both sets of government agents were jet lagged, tired, and everyone had consumed questionably large amounts of asprin. Ziva, possibly a little more so than everyone else do to being trapped in a seat directly between Tony and McGee. Gibbs had kicked back and slept the whole time while Tony jabbered about movies and McGee used tech speak. Ziva had barely understood two words of either, and then they had begun to bicker.

Booth and Bones had spent nearly the entire flight debating weather or not their was a logical reason that convicted felons couldn't run for president if they had a logical plan and suitably high IQ. Guess who was on which side.

Booth and Bones had arrived a little while before the NCIS team and so arrived at the hotel earlier. "Do we each gt seperate rooms? I didn't think it was the sort of thing the government would pay for." Bones asked when booth returned and handed her a key card with a different room number from his.

Booth shook his head, "No, we're sharing with agents from NCIS. You are sharing with an Agent Ziva David and I'm with an Agent Anthony DiNozzo." Booth shuddered very breifly. "God I hope he doesn't snore. If he does I may end up shooting him and I have a feeling the marine core would really not appreciate that."

"No, they would not appreciate that. In fact the marine core would most likely become very angry with both you, and the FBI if you were to shoot an NCIS agent," Bones said. She felt happy that she had been able to contribute to Booth's thought process.

Booth thought about telling her that he had been kidding but decided it wasn't worth the time and simply rolled his eyes instead. "Yeah, so anyway, the agents from NCIS aren't here yet so I'm going to go utilize the shower in my room to try and take the edge off of this headache."

He started to leave when Bones called, "What a headache? Are you sure it's just a headache? You don't have another brain tumor or anything do you?"

He sighed, "No Bones. Just a headache. Trust me I know the difference." he stepped into the elevator.

Bones was a little worried so she followed him to the elevator, "Okay, well, if you begin to see the ghosts of dead freinds please inform me immediately so we can check you into the hospital."

Booth gave a wave to show he had heard and then the elevator dinged shut.

Bones stayed in the lobby for a while trying to map everything out. It was a fairly nice hotel. Marble, and polished wood. She had been there for about ten minutes when she heard the familiar sounds of bickering.

"The Italian Job was hands down the best movie of all time-" Said a tall man with a huge croaked grin and vaugely Italian features.

"So if we back route the digital serving matrix to-" Said a short man with a boyish face.

"ShutupShutupShutupShutupShut upShutupShutupShutup!" Said a slight woman with an Israeli accent.

"Charming world class theif Charlie Croaker goes up against his former freind turned traitor nemesis-"

"Trace the call back to it's origination point-"

"You two are both with in seconds of dying in a slow, painful manner."

"Everybody shut the hell up so I can get our room keys!" said an older man with grey hair and a marine haircut. He rubbed his forehead like he had a headache and muttered, "Jesus Christ I feel like a middle-school teacher."

He retrieved the room keys and handed them out to their respective owners. "McGee, your with me. DiNozzo your rooming with the FBI agent. Ziva your with the Forensic Anthropologist."

"Me." Bones interjected.

All three agents spun on the spot. Their hands all reached for their government issued fire arms. "Who are you?" Tony, McGee, Gibbs, and ZIva, all asked at once.

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan. I'm a forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian Institution. I'm the best in the world. It's very nice to meet you all." She stuck out her hand. Tony recpvered first and shook the out stretched hand, introducing himeselfe. The others followed suite until everyone was aquainted.

Only Gibbs held back. "Where's the agent you work with? Seeley Booth?"

"Right here." Booth's voice said from behind Gibbs. Everyone jumped about six feet and truned to look at him. His hair was still wet from the shower and he looked like his headache had at least been relieved if not cured completely.

McGee stuttered for a moment, "You- how did you-"

"Sneek up behind you guys and make you squeal like a little girl?" he asked cocking an eyebrow. "Sniper training. They teach you how to walk really, really, quietly." he turned to Bones. "You going to be okay here for a while?"

She nodded. "Where are you going?"

"Firing range. There's one about a ten minute drive from here."

"Okay have a good time."

"I plan on it. Remember to call me if anything happens."

She rolled her eyes. "I believe the commonly used phrase here is, Duh!"

"Good work Bones! You used accurate slang with no help from me." Booth said as he headed for the doors. "Later all!" he called backwards over his shoulder.

Gibbs left too muttering about finding coffee.

Tony, Ziva, and McGee were all in shock.

Tony reclaimed his voice and said. "I can't believe what just happened."

Ziva was confused. "What happened."

"Someone sneaked up on Gibbs without him realizing it right when Gibbs was in the middle of talking about them. That's never happened before in living Gibbs memory." Tony was working up to a point now. "I mean someone snuck up on Gibbs. Gibbs just got Gibbed!"

The three agents tried to processed this statement. It didn't go so well.

* * *

Booth stood at the fireing line and prepared to shoot. The fireing range was almost deserted, their were only two other people there who had been present when he arrived.

One of the people was a tall man wearing a pair of designer slacks, a suite jacket, nice shoes, and a neatly starched blue dress shirt. It didn't look like the typical outfit for a day at the firing range but weirder things had happened. He looked about six one, and he looked slight, but he stood with military posture and he held the gun like he knew how to use it. He was tanned and he spoke like a Miami native.

The other person was a tiny auburn haired woman who looked like the recoil from her gun could shatter every bone in her arm. But she still stood fireing off like a professional. The two of them talked almost like they were on a date, not practicing to be able to kill someone.

The last shots were fired and Booth watched the couple real in the targets and examine the results. He felt kind of curious about how their accuracy would prove. Neither one of them dressed like a practiced shooter.

The man proved to be more accurate. "One more time Michael! Please!"

"No Fi! Iv'e won two times out of three that was our tie breaker remember?"

"Best three out of five then." The woman retorted.

Michael sighed. "Not now Fi. Why don't you go get the food from the car? We can have a nice lunch."

Fiona huffed but went to retrieve the food.

Michael let out a long breath and rolled his neck to relieve the tension. Booth chuckled, "I know how you feel. I just got of a plane, and I was sitting with a scientist the whole way. What's your headache from."

"My girlfreind." Michael answered. "I love her, I'd killed for her, I'd die for her. I just wish she was a little less energetic sometimes."

"I know that feeling. My names Booth."

"Michael."

"Nice to meet you. Are you from around here? I need to find a good bar." In reality Booth just wanted to keep Michael talking if he could. he was curious about the amount of certanty this man had been able to put into his previous statement.

Michael's face closed down as he took in the other man's neat suite, government fire arm, and shiny shoes, his brain started screaming _FED FED FED! _"No I grew up here but no. I don't know a good bar. Sorry."

Just then Fiona entered. "Michael I brought the lunch."

Michael made his face brighten again, "Great Fi! Why don't we eat it on the beach?" he then began pulling her from the building.

"Michael!"

"Later." he hissed.

"Fine, but Michael Westen I swear to you if you don't answere every single one of my questions later their will be hell to pay!" were the last words Booth heard as the couple left the building.

_Well now I have a name to check out at least. _Booth thought. Michael Westen. It was worth checking out.

**A/N: Well? What do you think? I kind of need to know here!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: My name is not Hart, Matt, or Donald, so no I don't own any of these characters. Just the random plot line.**

Ziva David watched her temporary roommate with intrest. The women had unpacked everything and put it neatly away. Ziva couldn't see any type of order to it, but Dr. Brennan obviously did. Ziva herselfe mearely arranged everything so that it was in easy reach. She liked to be able to leave quickly when the situation demanded it. Old habits died hard.

Dr. Brennan didn't attempt to start a conversation. Instead she opened a very thin lap top and began typing on something. Ziva just shrugged and began to clean her gun. "I would appreciate it if while cleaning your weapon you would point it away in order to avoid any infortunate cases of misfire."

This made Ziva look up. The doctors way of phraseing her words reminded Ziva of her own, only the doctor didn't have the excuse of having learned English as a fifth language. "The bullet chamber is empty. Their is no danger of a misfire." Ziva assured her.

Brennan tipped her head to the side. "Thank you. I find that to be very reasuring." The two lapsed back into a comfortable silence. They waited for about ten minutes before their was a knocking on the door.

"Knock, knock ladies. Open the door, I come bearing hot caffenated beverages." Ziva rolled her eyes and went to let Tony in. "Are you two having a slumber party or something?" Tony asked. His eyes took in the files and gun peices strewn accross the beds.

"No Tony, we are preparring to properly perform our jobs like good government workers. What have you been doing?"

"I," Tony said. "Performed the most important job of the day, and brought caffeine." he grinned and handed out the styrofoam cups. "For the lovely Israeli we have green tea with skim milk and two sugars." he handed Ziva the tea with a grin. Then he turned to Bones, "And for the beautiful scientist we have earl gray tea with milk and sugar."

He turned back to Ziva and watched her take a cautionary sip. When there were no negative remarks he grinned, "So? How'd I do?" Ziva just smiled grudgingly. "Yes! Another point goes to team DiNozzo!"

Bones frowned, "Are you literally keeping score or where you speaking medaphorically? Either way I'm not sure I follow."

"Thank you Dr. Brennan! You see Tony? I am not the only one who does not inderstand your terminology! And, Dr. Brennan is a full blooded American citizen!" Ziva said in triumph.

"That is technically true allthough I still find that I do not understand most references to pop culture or slang. I don't get out of the lab very often."

Tony looked back and forth between the two women. "Oookkaaayyy. Well it looks like the two of you have begun on the basis for a wonderful freindship but that is going to have to be put on hold for a moment because McProbicus has managed to work out something."

"Is McProbicus another name for agent McGee, or is this another person completely?" Dr. Brennan asked in confusion.

"It's McGee." Tony explained.

"I understand now. Thank You very much for clarifying agent DiNozzo."

With that the three of them went to the room next store.

* * *

"What have you got McGee?" Gibbs asked him.

"Well I compiled the virtual data matrix in order to accumulate data from all possible sources to-"

Gibbs cut him off, "In English McGee."

"I-" McGee started before being cut off again by Booth who had arrived earlier and was standing against the wall.

"If this explination involvesthe phrases, compiled, virtual, server, data, matrix, or accumulate said like I should understand you I will personally shoot you."

He said it in such a matter of fact toan of voice that it maid McGee gulp. He glanced at Dr. Brennan for help but she just shook her head. "I am a genius and that still made absolutely no sense to me."

McGee sighed. It was very demanding to be the only computer genius around. "Um, we can run a name through the search engine and it will pull up anything that has ever been entered on the data bases about the person."

"See? That wasn't so hard was it?" Booth said.

"So what do we do withi it now that the program works?" Ziva asked.

"We run a name."

Tony nodded. "Great! Do we have a name to run?"

"I got one," Booth stated.

Everyone looked at him. "Care to share Agent Booth?" Gibbs prodded.

Booth looked at him in silence for a moment, "Westen, Michael Westen." Then he left the room saying he was going for a drink.

Gibbs followed him.

Tony whistled once the door closed behind his boss, "This is going to be like the Clash of The Titans."

"Why is that?" Ziva asked.

"Because Booth is almost exactly like a younger Gibbs with a better sense of humor. This can mean either the world is going to end or-"

"Or what?" McGee asked.

"Or that killer is toast." Tony finished.

**A/N: Review! I can't keep going if only two people are reveiwing!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: And I would be writing this because?**

"So what? You just walked out?" Sam questioned incredulously. He opened the fridge and surveyed the choices. Their was really not much around in terms of edible substances. The contense of the fridge was chiefly made up of blueberry yogurt and beer. The question of how Michael and Fiona got nutrition was a question that belonged in the same category as how they did laundry. Unanswerable.

Sam settled on a beer and turned back to the group. Michael had called him and Jesse as soon as they had left the firing range for a planning meeting.

Michael rolled his eyes. "What else was I supposed to do Sam? I didn't have any confirmation that the guy was a fed, and we were in a public place."

"In my experience if something seems suspicious it's best to shoot it just in case," Fiona said with a shrug. "It's always possible to apologize later if it turns out the thing was harmless."

"And that would leave me in the same position with twice the heat from the government and a really pissed of fed to deal with."

"He wouldn't be around to be pissed if you did the shooting correctly." Fiona pointed out.

"No Fi." Michael told her sternly.

"This is great and all but now we gotta figure out what to do about all the feds swarming town." Jesse said, taking another bite of his yogurt. "I mean, I'm up for an all out Fed Smash Fest, but that doesn't change the fact the government will keep operatives swarming all over this town like ants at a picnic."

Sam nodded, recognizing the wisdom of Jesse's words, "What do you want to do Mike?" that was always his question. Sam had all the skills of destruction that Michael or Fiona did, he just didn't have the head to do the planning. Jesse was skilled as an operative, but when it came down to it he was just to likely to act on impulses to make really effective operation plans. Or follow them for that matter.

Michael took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He let his mind work out all the angles, seeing the lines and connections in his head like a road map. He isolated all the details and how best to tackle them.

His eyes snapped open. "Sam, I want you to get in touch with your contacts at the FBI. FInd out who they've sent, and details about them. After that we can work out how to get them to back off."

Sam nodded. "You got it brother. I've got a buddy who's the head of the Major Crimes unit in D.C. Great guy, he used to be a sniper for the Rangers back in the day. Damn good sniper. Won all sorts of awards. Longest shot. Most kills. Whole nine yards."

"Good. Get on that." Michael turned to Jesse. "Jesse, you start stocking up. Get all our safe houses stocked with food and weapons. Do whatever you need to do to make sure that security is tight. I don't want any nasty surprises if we wind up having to go under ground."

"No problem. We talking big like assault rifles or small like gloc's?"

"Whatever we've got. The whole nine yards." Jesse nodded and left to get ready.

Michael then turned to Fiona, "Fi my mother invited us to dinner at her house tonight-"

"Already done Michael. I'll go make a salad so we don't arrive at Madeline's empty handed."

Sam opened his mouth to ask where exactly Fiona planned on finding vegetables to make a salad with, but changed his mind. "So while Jesse and I are out taking care of the hard part you and Fi are going to dinner with the folks? I don't mean to sound whiny but that doesn't seem fair."

"We need to make sure my moms house is locked down and secure. Besides, I think a home made dinner from my mother is at least as deadly as calling in a favor from an old pal." Michael told him.

Sam chuckled, "Point taken Mikey, I'll go take care of that phone call," he stepped out on to the balcony to make the call.

* * *

At that exact moment, Seeley Booth was enjoying a drink, and an extremely late lunch at the hotel bar when his cell phone rang. "Booth," he Barked.

"Hey buddy! How goes it in the land of homicide investigation?"

"Sam? Sam Axe. Is that you?" Booth asked in surprise. He rarely ever got social calls from ex-SEALS.

"You bet it brother. I just thought I would call and catch up."

Booth sighed. "You never call just to check in Sam. What's up?"

Sam sounded offended, "What I can't just call to check in with an old pal? Fine, look I've been living in Miami and I heard about a dead marine down here, and I heard some agents were coming dow from Washington to check it out. I was wondering who was coming."

Booth straightened up. "Well you're talking to him Sam, what can I do for you?"

"Nothing, I've just been going a little stir crazy sitting around. You know, tired of retirement, and I heard that the dead guy is a marine. I wanted to call and see if I could do anything to help out." Sam managed to say all of this without screaming. Having an old friend in charge of the investigation into his best friend just made everything that much more complicated.

"I don't think there is anything but I'll let you know if I need any information while I'm in town."

"Okay, Booth. Take care of your self while you're in town. Miami is tougher than it looks."

"Okay Sam. Maybe we can meet up sometime. Get a drink somewhere. Knowing you, you've got a map of all the decent bars from here to Fort Lauderdale."

"Sounds good. We'll talk soon." With that Sam hung up the phone and Booth clicked his shut.

That conversation had been strange to say the least. Just another thing to sort out later if he could. Any way, it might be useful to have a friend with connections in town.

Any way. That would hardly be the strangest conversation he would have that day.

**A/N: Dun Dun Dun Dunnnnnnnnn. Cliff Hanger alert! Reviews are better for the soul than Chocolate Ice cream and that's saying something, so REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Um still not a middle aged guy, so, no. I don't own these characters.**

Special Agent Gibbs stood in the corner of the restaurant watching the FBI agent. It wasn't that Gibbs was paranoid necessarily, okay fine he probably was paranoid by most psychological standards, it was just that he didn't trust people easily. Or at all if he could help it.

Gibbs was always suspicious of everyone. It made social interactions a little bit difficult, but he was still breathing, so that was something. It made him uncomfortable to work with anyone he didn't know especially if they were from an agency that wasn't NCIS.

He wanted to find out more about Agent Booth before they got into the more hairy part of the investigation. Tobias Fornell swore Booth was a good man, and an even better agent, but Gibbs prefered to make that kind of call for himself.

Gibbs waited until Agent Booth had finished taking his phone call before approaching. He sat down next to Booth, "Was that an important phone call?"

To Booth's credit he didn't jump or show any sign of surprise that Gibbs was there. Instead he just took another bite of his food and shook his head, "No not very important."

"Who was it then? Because there are two things I don't believe in, mixing personal and professional situations, and coincidences."

"Is that all? You have a bit of a reputation. The Gibbs Rules, they're kind of infamous in agency circles." Booth asked.

"No I have more rules I just don't think they need to be brought up right now."

"Should I be carrying around a note pad? Do I need to write these rules down?" it was only kind of a joke. Booth had suspicions about working with new people too, and Gibbs had a reputation that was definently infamous. Booth had no idea what to expect, other than the unexpected.

Booth decided to just slam the information out to Gibbs and see what would happen, "Okay fine, lets skip the sneaky interrogation crap while you try to figure out who I was talking to. It was a friend of mine, his name is Sam Axe. You can check him out, he's an ex-SEAL who I worked with a couple of times. You can check him out on the computer."

Gibbs opened his mouth to ask another question but Booth lifted his hand to cut him off, "Before you ask, he called me because he heard about the dead marine, he heard the FBI was taking a look and he lives in Miami. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to help. I told him to call if he heard anything, but otherwise to stay out of it."

Booth had some of his drink and then turned to Gibbs, eyebrows raised. "Anything else you want to know about my personal life? First date? Arrest record? What color socks I'm wearing? Or, are we done for the day?"

Gibbs couldn't help a slight smile. Booth was good. He had anticipated the next question and answered it. Also, with the right training you can learn a lot about someone from the manner they answer questions with. What Gibbs had learned was that Booth had either been in the military or the navy. It wasn't much but it was more than what he'd had.

"What where you?"

Booth stopped chewing, "What do you mean?"

Playing dumb to stall. It was a fairly standard tactic. "What where you? As in Military or Navy, because you were definently one or the other."

Booth was throw momentarily before answering, "Rangers, I was a sniper." Booth glanced at Gibbs. "Like you."

Now it was Gibbs's turn to be thrown but he just stayed silent. Booth lifted his hand and pointed to the side of his trigger finger. "You have a lasting callus on the index finger of your left hand. I have one too. It's a dead give away for a sniper. You were with the marine core right?"

"Gunnery sergeant at first."

"Nice. I was always in the Rangers."

"Why did you decide to be a sniper?" Gibbs asked.

"Why did_ you_? The short version was that I had good aim. One night some buddies of mine bet me I couldn't hit a target set at a distance. Our drill sergeant just said that if we were so damn determined we might as well give it a try." Booth shrugged and finished the last bite of his lunch. "The night ended with me forty dollars richer and having my first target."

Booth paid and Gibbs's cell phone rang. "Yeah McGee."

"Boss, I've got something on this Michael Westen guy. You'd better get up here." Gibbs snapped his cell phone shut. "McGee found something let's go."

"Did he say what kind of something?"

"Something about Michael Westen."

With that the two of them left the restaurant.

* * *

"What have you got McGee?" Gibbs asked when he and Booth entered the room.

"Well boss, it's more what I didn't get."

"What?" Booth and Gibbs asked in synchronization.

Tony looked pointedly over at Ziva who rolled her eyes and handed him a twenty.

"I mean the file is completely encrypted. I've never even seen some of this type of password protection. The file is totally black."

"So what does that mean McProby" Tony pipped in.

"It means there's nothing. It's like this guy existed in theory for about ten seconds of his life before disappearing."

"He pulled a Bourne Identity. Only he still probably remembers things." Tony said.

"I fail to understand that reference but given what I know about you I believe I am correct in assuming that it is a movie." Bones said.

McGee ignored these comments, "The codes on here are CIA based so this guy was probably a spy of some type."

Booth groaned. "I hate working with the CIA. They're all such pompous bastards."

"Can you hack the codes McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Well I can try, and I already called Abbey but I don't know. This coding is some pretty serious stuff." McGee said doubtfully.

"Why don't you send a copy to my people at the Jefferesonian? I believe Angela has skill in hacking, perhaps she can help where you suffer ineptitude." Bones suggested with her usual lack of tack.

"I didn't hear the hacking part." Booth told her.

Bones was confused, "But, your hearing is excellent."

"It means that hacking is illegal so the fact that Angela is a good hacker, is not something anyone needs to know that I know."

"I'm still confused."

Booth sighed, "Never mind."

"Who am I sending this to?" McGee asked.

"Angela Montenegro at the Jeffersonian Institution."

"Okay," McGee looked up at Gibbs. "I'll keep working on this. The rest of you should probably try to get some rest until I have something for you guys to work with. I know it's only 5:30 but it's hard to tell when we all might get to sleep again."

Everybody nodded and retired to their respective bed rooms while McGee kept on typing and far away in D.C. other scientists were doing the exact same thing.

**A/N: What do you think? Was the interaction between Booth and Gibbs good? I was kind of worried about that since Gibbs doesn't actually talk very much. Any way, review for me! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Still not wealthy or famous, so no. I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them to play for a little while.**

"This is really bad Mike. As in mucho, grande, problemo." Sam said the next afternoon. He was eating yogurt and worrying.

"Why is this such a big problem Sam?" Michael wondered. "You've hit up your friends at the bureau for favors before. Why is this any different?" Michael was going through one of the many thick files that needed to be sorted with one hand helping Fiona clean a gun with his other hand. One of the many benefits to all of the spy training was the almost inevitable development of ambidexterity and the ability to multi task.

"Because Booth was a really good buddy of mine Mike, like almost as good a buddy as you are, and he knows how I work." Sam took another bite of yogurt. "Now he's here in Miami investigating a murder of a marine that we were at least indirectly responsible for, and it is a huge problem."

"Well if you know him that well Sam then it should be all the easier to dispatch him back to Washington quickly."

"Oooohhhhh, I like the sound of the dispatching." Fiona said gleefully.

Michael sighed, "Whole Fi. Not in a cardboard box."

"You never let me have any fun Michael."

Michael decided to disregard this comment and instead turned to his best friend who was still dejectedly piling yogurt into his mouth, "Okay Sam, tell me about this Agent Booth guy."

"No problem there. Umm... okay let's see. Big sports player in school. Was a sniper with the rangers, in fact he had the highest accuracy rating ever, not to mention longest shot record." Sam stopped for a minute when he realized something. "I think he was in Afghanistan around the same time you were. He's got a younger brother named Jared who's in military intelligence. His family life was-" Sam cut himself off abruptly when he realized exactly what he was about to say.

Michael looked up from his file at Sam, "His family life was what Sam?"

"It uh," Sam swallowed. "Strikes a little close to home for you."

Something behind Michael's eyes shut down. Michael was never an openly happy guy but normally there was at least a bit of light behind his eyes. When there wasn't people who had crossed him generally started to have untraceable, deadly, accidents. "Go on Sam," he said. His voice was even and calm, but also strangely dead and cold. It made Fiona put down the gun she was cleaning and lean her head against Michael's shoulder.

Sam weighed his options. He could keep going and give useful information, or shut the hell up and save his friend some emotional trauma. He decided to just spit it out, "His mom died when he was a little kid. His dad was an abusive alcoholic with money issues, and he basically raised his little brother until he was twelve."

"What happened after that?" Fiona asked. She assumed it would be best to try to keep things quick and clinical for Michael's sake.

"His grandfather pulled him and his brother the hell out of there and he joined the rangers right out of college."

Michael nodded. "Is there anything else i should know?"

Sam thought about it for a moment. "Only that he's still one hell of a shot Mike. I mean if he decides to shoot you he is not going to miss."

"What about languages? Hand to hand skills?" Michael was trying to pull every relevant detail possible.

"Spanish, French, Pashto, some Dari. He was an altar boy, so he knows some Latin. That's it on languages," Sam said, finishing his yogurt. "Hand to hand is nothing special. He can box like a champ but no specific training. Just basic military self-defense and he can throw one hell of a Haymaker."

Michael nodded. That was fairly basic, and easy to deal with. "Weapons besides the gun?"

Sam shrugged, "Combat knife probably. He isn't half bad with explosives."

"Well then that shouldn't be too bad to take care of."

"What shouldn't be to hard to take care of?" Jesse asked from the door as he entered.

"Sam's FBI friend," Fiona supplied. She had returned to cleaning her gun.

Jesse nodded easily and flopped into a chair next to Sam. "The safe house are good to go Mike. Stocked up on everything from crackers to C4."

"Good job Jesse. Grab a beer from the fridge." Sam congratulated.

Michael raised his eyebrows at Sam but didn't comment. Over the years he had just gotten used to having his home invaded and sharing the entire contents of his fridge between the entire team. Ever since Fiona had first broken into the loft he had just decided it wasnt worth getting upset over anymore.

Jesse went to the fridge, "And grab me one while your there!" Sam called after him.

Michael sighed in resignation and dropped his head backwards. Fiona rubbed his temples sympathetically and tugged the file from Michael's limp fingers. "Enough filing. We will deal with it later," she told him.

Michael opened his eyes and thought about protesting for a moment before giving up and shutting his eyes again.

* * *

"Angela you are a genius!" McGee exclaimed as they finally broke one of the last lines of encryption on the Michael Westen black file.

"Ah, thanks McCutypie." Angela replied from D.C.

"McCutypie?" Tony questioned. "That's a new one. Can I use that?"

"Sure sweetie."

"Awesome!" Tony grinned and gave a big thumbs up.

"Who you taking to Angie?" Hodgins asked when he entered Angela's office.

"Just some boys from NCIS," Angela grabbed Hodgins hand and pulled him into the camera view. "Sweeties this is my husband Hodgins. Jack this is McGee and Tony."

"Hi everybody. Hey, is it true that-"

"Jack," Angela cut him off. "We talked about the conspiracy theories right?"

Hodgins nodded.

"And what did we decide on?"

Hodgins sighed. "Only on every third wendsday of the month."

"Good honey. Now why don't you go get us some lunch. You can tell me about your newest conspiracy theory a week from tomorrow. Okay?"

Hodgins sighed and nodded. "Okay Ang. Finish this up soon. Remember we're picking up Michael a little early from day care so the baby sitter can watch him while we go out to dinner." After that he left."

"Okay, we should only have one more line to go before this file is good to read."

For the next few minutes the only sounds were the clicking of keyboards.

"And program run." McGee said. "This should do it."

"Okay, bye McSweetie. Call me back if it doesn't work for some reason."

McGee nodded. "Okay Angela. Talk to you soon."

With that and a smile, Angela closed the link.

"Here we go. Here we go." McGee muttered. The program ran and McGee started clicking through the file. When he reached a certain page he nearly spat coffee all over the screen. Instead he started to choke.

"Elf Lord? Are you okay?" Tony asked smacking him on the back.

When McGee managed to gather enough breath to speak he gasped. "Ca-call." _hack_ "G-Gi." _Hack "_Gibbs." _Hack hack._

For once without comment, Tony flipped out his cell phone.

**A/N: Sorry I took a few days to update! I was really buisy! Any way I hope you think this chapter was good, but you have to let me know! I thought it was about time we heard from the lovely folks over at the Jeffersonian, I hope I portrayed them correctly. Next chapter the NCIS and Bones team will read up on Michael, and within the next two everyone will run into eachother. We are talking major clash of the titans. Review! Review! Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm only borrowing from those who can afford it.**

While McGee was decrypting and Tony was taking care of his paper work, Booth, Bones, Gibbs, and Ziva, were at the Miami coroners office examining the body. When they arrived Gibbs dispatched Ziva with instructions to take pictures of the crime scene while he photographed the body for Ducky. Booth was taking notes of the scene.

"What are you thinking here Bones?" Booth asked as the forensic anthropologist got a good look at the remains.

"I am thinking that there is really way to much flesh left on this body. Cam would probably be more useful in this situation." She answered.

"Yeah but you're a genius. Just you know, tell me what you think killed him, we'll send off some pictures of the body to Dr. Mallard and Cam and then you can get all of the flesh removed and work your magic. Just tell me what you can from this." Booth waited expectantly for an answer.

"Hmmmm..."

Booth was poised and ready to take notes, "Hmmmm... what?"

"Well I am uncomfortable working with this much flesh but I am reasonably comfortable with the assumption that cause of death comes from the multiple bullets riddling his flesh. The ones lodged in his frontal, pariatle, and clavicle, are most likely the kill shots." She explained.

"Well great. We'll stop by the evidence lock up and have everything shipped to the Jeffersonian."

"I want my forensic scientist involved on this one Agent Booth," Gibbs said as he appeared from behind Booth.

Booth jumped slightly and turned to face Gibbs. "Okay first off, you _need_ to make more noise when you walk. Okay? One of these days you are going to wind up giving someone a heart attack.

Gibbs took a moment to show some skepticism at Booth's words. No one had ever actually commented on his mode of silent transportation and it's repercussions. At least, not to his face.

"Secondly, I have no problem with involving your forensic scientist but everyone at the Jeffersonian is a genius and I want them working this," Booth finished.

Gibbs shrugged. "Fine, we'll collaborate."

"Where should the Squints meet up?"

Gibbs was confused "Squints?"

"Aha!" Bones exclaimed. "I knew that that name was not a universal law enforcement term!"

Booth sighed and explained, "Squints is an FBI term for scientists. You know the specialist ones."

"Why the term Squints?"

Booth was getting impatient now. "Because! Scientist, they, you know, squint at things," After that Booth tried to change the subject back to the one they had originally been discussing. "Any way we still need to decide where the squints will have their collaboration party."

"I don't know what kind of facilities they have at NCIS, but the Jeffersonian lab is state of the art, it also has all the newest equipment available. You can direct your forensic scientist and medical examiner to go there. I'll call Cam and inform her."

Gibbs nodded and then the phone rang. "Yeah Tony. What is it."

"Um, well I don't want to alarm you but I think we found something big."

"How big DiNozzo?"

"Well, we had to go through a whole ton of security to look at any of it,"

"Not alarmed yet DiNozzo."

"The alarming part is, well, I think McGee is choking on hotel coffee," Tony explained. The other agents could hear the sounds of hacking and panting in the background.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Okay, we're coming. And Tony?"

"Yeah Boss?"

"Try giving McGee the Heimlich. We need him to be able to breathe."

Tony nodded. "Got it boss. One breathing Probie coming right up, but boss?"

"Yeah?" Gibbs, Booth, and, Bones were getting into the car at this point.

"Do I have to give him mouth to mouth?"

Gibbs tried to formulate a reply for a moment before deciding it wasn't worth it, just clicking the phone shut.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, everyone had reconvened in the hotel room, and McGee (who's breathing rate had been returned to normal) was getting ready to go through the file. Ziva who had returned to the hotel before the others was sitting brushing her hair which was wet from taking a shower. She had been ordered by McGee to stay a certain distance away from the computers and technology while her hair was wet.

"This is the Westen file and if half of what's in it is true then we have a serious issue."

"Why McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, his family life was fairly standard for CIA operatives. Lower income neighborhood, basically raised his little brother Nathan, his father was an alcoholic and believed to be abusive but no charges were ever filed. His mother Madeline gets a check from the government every month and she still lives in the same house that she lived in when the boys were growing up."

Booth, who had stiffened silently at the mention of Michael's father forced himself to act normally. "Print out the address. I want to go talk to the mother."

McGee nodded and returned to the file. Bones moved towards him and murmured, "Booth are you alright."

Booth shook his head. "I know what it's like to have an abusive father and to raise a little brother. I hate that anyone else ever had to go through what I did."

"Sometimes there's nothing you can do. You can't save everyone."

"I know that Bones, It's just, what I went through still gives me nightmares, and I got out early. For someone to have to take that kind of crap for their entire childhood, I just can't wrap my head around how he made it this long." Booth muttered.

Bones patted his shoulder sympathetically and flashed a disapproving glare at Gibbs who had been listening to the conversation with interest.

"Does he have a criminal record McGee?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah, a pretty extensive one too." he answered

"How extensive?" Gibbs asked, immediately focused.

"Well, put it this way, Westen stole more cars by the time he turned twelve than most professional criminals do in their entire careers. The arrests span from the time he turned ten, up until he joined the army at seventeen with permission from both parents."

"Why did he steal the cars?" Tony asked.

"That's the strange bit. He never did anything with them except go to the store and take his brother to the doctors office."

"Medical records?" Gibbs prompted.

He was a reasonably healthy kid according to his pediatrician, but he did check himself into the emergency room a few times, and he refused to name a cause for his injuries. Teachers also reported Michael coming into school with injuries. Small stuff, black eyes, limps, semi-large cuts, other bruises. That sort of thing."

Booth looked like he was trying very hard to maintain a normal breathing rate.

"According to his report card he could have been valedictorian in highschool if he hadn't been caught fighting so many times. He joined the military straight out of highschool. Never played any sports or got involved in any clubs."

That was the end of the child hood section so McGee started to move on to Michael's skill set. "In terms of weapons, basically, you name it, he can kill you with it."

"What about languages?" Ziva questioned.

"Hand to hand combat?" Booth wanted to know.

"Languages are French, Dari, Pash Tu, Farsi, Russian, German, Arabic, Turkish, Urdu, Greek, and Gaelic."

Ziva nodded. Most of the languages matched up with her own repertoire.

"Now the hand to hand combat section is where things get a little bit scary," McGee warned.

"Tell us McGee," Gibbs ordered.

"His combat trainer said he was unbelievable. Never a move that didn't hit a good target, and never a move waisted. No weaknesses and great fighting form. Top physical shape. The man has thirty years of karate experience not to mention army combat training."

"How does he work?" Gibbs asked quietly. "Does he have any psychological weakness?"

McGee looked up at Gibbs. "He's a machine boss. No chinks in the armor. In his entire career he never quit a job until the objective was achieved. Refused some orders doing it to. All in all he was a damn good spy until he just vanished of the face of the Earth about eight years ago." McGee spun around in his chair. "That's basically where the file ends. There are a few more details on family life, but everything on his career was either never computerized or buried deep."

There was a long moment of silence before Booth asked, "What does burned mean?"

"You mean other than the skin affliction caused by over exposure to ultra-violet light?" Bones clarified.

"It means he's dangerous and probably unstable. The government fired him and erased his life entirely from existence." Ziva explained. "Being unstable is the only way you get one of those."

"One of what?" Tony asked.

Ziva looked straight at Tony. "A Burn Notice."

**A/N: Dun, dun duh dunnnnnnnnnn... Amonosness. I thought it was a good way to end the chapter. I got a complaint about how the investiagtors weren't doing much investigating so I hope that this is a little better. Also to answer another question, Booth and Brennan are not together yet but they probably will be. There will also be some Tiva. Review for me!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Again, borrowed, not owned.**

Booth sat in his car staring transfixed at the two level house. It looked fairly typical for the neighborhood it was positioned in. It was painted a pale yellow color and it had brown roof tiles that looked like they had been hand repaired at least a couple of times. Booth could also see a green house that, weirdly enough, looked to be at least a decade newer than the rest of the house. There were brightly colored flowers blooming all around a reasonably spacious yard area.

It didn't look like the kind of house where two boys had been terrorized by their father for the better part of two decades. But then again, neither had his childhood home.

Booth wasn't exactly sure why he was staring at this house, or why he had insisted on coming alone. Bones had offered but he had told her that he wanted to visit the family by himself. She had questioned him but Booth had shrugged her off and told her that he had just had a feeling. Bones had walked away muttering about the unreliability of the human digestive tract as an indicator of situations.

Booth spent another few minutes lost in thought about the forensic anthropologist and for a moment his expression relaxed then he looked back up at the house and his smile faded. A little voice in his head started muttering that he would have to move sooner or later.

Eventually he stole his nerves and stepped out of his car into the sweltering Miami heat. Warmth seemed to radiate off of everything in the street and Booth could feel the heat of the pavement through the soles of his shoes.

He went up the front steps and stopped staring at the door. What did you do when you were standing out side of the door of an ex-super spies mother? Ring the door bell? Well he couldn't think of anything better to do, so he reached out and rang the door bell.

Booth could hear the bell echo through the house. He waited for several minutes and had almost decided that no one was home when the door cracked open.

Whatever Booth had been expecting, it was definently not to be greeted by a women with spiky, bleached hair to open the door with a lit cigarette and a shot gun clutched in her hands.

"Whoa!" Booth exclaimed. Jumping back from the door and lifting his hands in the universal sign for [look I am not holding a big huge gun].

Madeline Westen lowered the shot gun and appraised the man who had rung her door bell. "Who the hell are you?" She barked rufly.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI I just wanted to ask a few questions about Michael," he replied. "Do you always open the door with a loaded shot-gun?" He was eyeing the weapon cautiously. One hand had already reached for his own firearm out of habit.

Madeline waved her hand dismissively, "Oh relax sweetheart the safety's on," she set the gun to the side and opened the door a little farther. "You say you're FBI? And you have questions about Michael?"

"Yes Mam," Booth said slipping into his polite habits now that there was no gun being pointed at his head.

Madeline grunted and turned, walking back into the house. Booth stood in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what to do until Madeline called, "Well don't just stand there with the door open! You're letting all the cold air out!"

Booth came in and shut the door tight behind him. On instinct he wiped his feet clean on the door mat. He didn't know what it was, but having this women barking at him made him feel distinctly like a kid again.

"Good. Now you'd better sit down. Would you like a beer?" Madeline offered from the kitchen.

Booth shook his head. "No, I only have a few questions. I won't be here for very long."

Maddy snorted. "With you people it's never 'just a few questions'. Now sit down, drink your beer, and for god's sake lose the suite jacket before you get heat stroke! I swear you and Michael both, I keep telling him there is no point in looking serious while helping people if your to busy dying of heat stroke to do any helping."

Booth did the only thing he could. He removed his suite jacket so he was left in his slacks and collard shirt, and hung the jacket over the back of a seat at the kitchen table. He sat down and meekly accepted the beer that Madeline handed him before she sat down across the table from him.

Booth sat for a moment in awkward silence. He couldn't quite get past the feeling that he was a small child again who was being taken care of and simultaneously being chewed out by a concerned parent. Madeline didn't break the silence, obviously waiting for him to speak first. he cleared his throat, "Umm I guess I just wanted to know a bit more about Michael. I'm in the middle of a murder case about a dead marine, and I, and the agents I'm working with think that your son might be involved some how."

Madeline's gaze was unyielding and it was making Booth fidget. "You think that my son murdered a U.S. marine?" Booth fidgeted more. "Well I can't say I blame you honey. If you're anything like the other agents who have been sent down here to talk to me then the only things you know you learned from other people or from a file, most of which is frankly bull." She stubbed out her cigarette and lit another. "I've shot two of them on sight but I decided not to shoot you," Madeline caught his gaze. "Don't make me regret it."

"I'm sorry Mam. But I just need to know if your son is capable of killing a marine." Booth found himself unable to meet her eyes.

"You listen to me honey. My son is capable of killing almost anyone, but if he killed your marine, then he had a damn good reason. My son may have killed a few people hell he may have killed a lot of them, but I know for a fact that he killed them either for his country or to protect people. So if he's your murderer," she shrugged. "Then there was more to your marine than just the brave hero who fought for his country."

Booth nodded as he processed this information.

Madeline watched Booth. "Know you wan to know more about Michael, then I'll tell you." She got up and moved to the mantle and picked up a few photographs. She handed him one of them. It showed Michael as a teenager and another small boy who looked a bit like assumed that this was his younger brother Nate. In the photo Michael looked like he was forcing a calm semi-happy expression, while Nate grinned happily. The two were sitting on the front steps of the house. Michael had one arm protectively around Nate and there was an angry red mark running down the side of his face and along his temple.

"Michael was thirteen when this was taken. Nate had only just turned seven," Madeline tapped the red mark on Michael's cheek. "This mark is from his fathers wedding ring. Hank was drunk and he was trying to push Nate around. Michael got in front of him and Hank smacked him across the face." Maddy looked back up at Booths face and noticed the scar at the side of his jaw. "Now, something tells me you were that little boy too. The one who took the hit for someone else."

Maddy sat back. "Now, do you think someone like that would ever kill a hero?"

Booth was speechless. _How did she know? The scar could have come from anywhere? She's right though, I could never kill a man who hadn't done anything wrong. _

Madeline took the picture back and handed over the next photo. It looked like a more recent shot. A tall bald man with a goatee was sitting at the same kitchen table with Michael, and was that? "Sam Axe!"

"You know Sam?" Madeline asked.

Booth nodded. "We had a couple of missions together when Sam was a seal and I was a sniper."

Madeline accepted this. Sam had done a lot as a SEAL. Somehow, it didn't seem so strange that he would know this FBI agent.

Booth turned back to the photo. All three men where holding beer bottles. They looked tired but reasonably happy. "These are my sons best friends. They go through hell almost every day to help people and at one point every single one of them has been shot and beat to hell."

Maddy then handed Booth the last photo. It was of Michael and the women from the firing range that he had called Fiona. They were standing in the sun. Michael's arms were around Fiona and of all the photos, this was the only one where Michael actually looked truly happy, and relaxed. "This is Fiona, and my son cares more about that girl than anyone else in this entire world. He would die for her, and he would kill for her, and he wouldn't spend a moment feeling bad about it."

She sat back in her chair across the table. "Now, do you still think my son is a cold blooded murderer?"

Booth shook his head. "I'm sorry about all of this Miss Westen. I think I get it now. These people are your family, and I promise that I won't hurt them." and he wouldn't either. His perspective had been shifted. Obviously, the man that Madeline knew was nothing like the man described in the file. There was more to this, and he had every intention of finding it.

Maddy nodded. "I know you won't Honey. And if you don't try and hurt them, then I can guarantee that my family won't try to hurt yours." She got up and moved towards the door. "Now, unless you want to stay for dinner with my son and his girlfriend, I suggest you go back to your car."

She opened the door only to see the charger pull up in front of her house.

She shrugged. It might be good for this agent to get the full on Michael and Fiona treatment. Besides, she had cooked too much anyway. She turned back to the confused FBI agent. "So, agent Booth, how do you like spaghetti?"

**A/N: Well, Madeline has now met Booth. How do you think I did? I tried to stay true to both characters, but if you think I was off, let me know and I can revise. Review for me!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Hahahahahahahahahaha. NO**

When Fiona and Michael pulled up to the curb they were in the middle of a verry important debate.

"But Michael it's been ages since we went on an actual vacation, goodness knows we could use a break," Fiona told him.

"We went to the Caimens not to long ago." he pointed out. Michael had long since gotten used to fighting arguments that he knew he had no chance of winning. He had simply adopted the, argue-futily-and-later-pretend-it-never-happened attitude. It worked most times, and when it didn't their was always the shopping spree option. When it came down to argueing with his girlfreind Michael was not above bribery.

"Going under cover as a married couple to a resort in the Caimens for a CIA job, while very enjoyable is not exactly a relaxing vacation Michael." Fiona huffed.

"Fi, even if we did go somewhere I would still have to travel under a fake name. My life history was erased remember?" Michael reminded her as he shut off the car.

"Fine so go under a fake name and then we can go do touristy things like regular people."

"Can we talk about his later Fi?" Michael asked as they walked accross the street towards Maddys house. When they were about half way accross michael stopped and stared at the black SUV parked by the curb.

Fiona noticed this and stopped too. "Michael? What's wrong?"

Michael shook his head. "Probably nothing."

This irritated Fiona slightly. "Michael, right now there is no such thing as probably nothing. What do you see?" She had stepped closer to Michael and his arm had gone around her instinctively. They normally stood that way when they were in public and talking about a potentially dangerous senario. To the public they would look like a talking couple when really they were watching eachothers backs and maintaining clear shooting lines.

"That SUV has blacked out windows and G-Series license plates. It's a classic FBI vehicle. And the fact that it's parked right outside my mom's house isn't making me feel any better," he murmured.

"Let's get inside. While we're at dinner we can sweep the house."

Michael allowed Fiona to tug him up the front steps of the childhood home and opened the door.

* * *

Booth had experienced some awkward situations before. It came with his job. However, he could honestly say that being walked in on by a spy while peeling carrots at said spies kitchen table was one of the awkwardest things he had ever experienced.

As soon as Michael saw the FBI agent his gun was in his hand, fully loaded, with the safety off, and pointed at Booth.

Booth had been just as quick on the job bu what he hadn't counted on was having Fiona packing a gun too.

"Well..." Booth said. "This is akward."

"Your telling me. Now, do you mind telling me what the hell your doing in my moms kitchen?" Michael asked. None of them had lowered their weapons.

That was when Maddy entered the kitchen. "Oh all of you put those away! I'de hate to have to shoot all three of you." Booth slipped his firearm back into his hip holstere, Fiona slipped hers back into her bag, and Michael stuck his into the waiste band of his suite pants. "Good. Now Fiona, you come with me and help me get dinner. You boys go out back and talk." She ordered.

Michael's eyes narrowed infintesimaly before his face smoothed into an unnervingly wide smile. "Sure Ma. We'll just go out back and have a nice safe chat so we can establish some boundaries." Michael turned to the unnerved FBI agent and gestured out the door. "After you."

The two men had barely made their way out the door when Michael stopped abruptly, causing Booth to crash into him. Before he had been able to process anything Michael had stolen the Agents fire arm and had it expertly pointed at Booth's heart.

Booth jumped back. "This is what you call a safe discussion! Jesus Christ what is wrong with you people!" he exclaimed.

"My mother said a safe conversation," he replied. "Personally I feel a lot safer when you _don't_ have a gun."

"Well I'm not feeling safe at all." Booth retorted.

"I can live with that." Michael replied calmly. He still hadn't moved the gun pointed at Booth's chest. "Now, I'm only going to say this once: _Get the hell out. _ I have a life here now. I help people. I don't need more government agents getting involved and screwing that up. So get out of my life and never come back, because if you do I will rain hell down on you and everyone and everything you hold dear, and I am really good at raining down hell."

His voice had maintained that same low, cold, clear toan through the entire conversation. The words sent a cold shiver down Booth's back. He had heard plenty of threats before, it was part of the gig, but this threat was carried out so calmly that it left no doubt in Booth's mind that the threatener had every ability to carry out the threat.

Booth glared. "Oh like you helped Marine Lutenant Kevins by shooting him? Some help!"

"I didn't pull that trigger." Michael retorted icily. "I did pull the trigger that took out a Columbian drug cartel. Yo ucan thank me later." he contamplated what he had just said for a moment. "On second thoughts, don't. I really don't want to know you long enough for you to thank me."

"I don't want to thank you period." Booth retorted.

"Fair enough." Michael agreed easily. "Now get the hell out." Both men heard a loud screach and smelled burning rubber. They heard the loud chatter of gun fire and Michael and Booth immediately dropped flat to the ground. "Okay... scratch that!" Michael shouted. "You now have three options. One, run. Your in good shape you might make it. Option two involves me handing you back this gun so you can use it to shoot some Columbians. And option three involves me shooting you with it. Your choice!"

"Columbians? I thought you said you killed them!" Booth shouted back.

"Well obviously I missed a couple and now their pissed! Now take the gun and start shooting or I'm going to shoot you!" Michael shouted back as he started to try and map out a way back to the house.

Booth groaned and rolled his eyes. "Give me the god damn gun!

Michael did it without hesitation and then took off bak to the house. Booth followed after, keeping low to the ground and weaving to dodge the bullets. As a street light exploded above him he silently wondered just how mich tylenol it would take to get someone through this week.

When they got through the door the first thing Michael did was lock and bolt it. Then he was all plans. "Mom! Take the shot gun, get into the bathroom and stay down!" Maddy went without question. "Fiona, try and take down the guys from the top window."

"Got it Michael." she replied calmly.

"Do you have C4?"

"Some not much."

Michael nodded. "You know where the liquor cabinet and cleaners are?"

"Naturally."

"Good."

Fiona pulled out her cell phone and started punching in numers as she went.

"Who is she calling?" Booth asked.

"Backup." Michael replied as he expertly loaded a rifle. "You should call whoever your working with too. I normally try to avoid the feds at all cops but I don't see another way for us to get out of this."

Booth called Bones. She picked up on the first ring. "Brennan."

"Bones. It's me. Put Agent Booth on the phone right now."

"Booth? Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

"Bones! Gibbs! Phone! _Now!" _She handed the phone to Gibbs.

"Agent Booth?"

"Agent Gibbs! I don't mean to take your boss part here but if you, DiNozzo, Ziva, and McGee, could get your asses down here ASAP it would probably safe me getting really, _really _shot. And I speak from experience here when I say I really don't want to get shot." Booth shouted down the phone while he loaded his gun.

Gibbs replied immediately, already moving straight towards the door gesturing to Tony and Ziva who followed immediately. "Ten mintes flat." he barked and snapped the phone shut.

Booth nearly jumped four feet when the next thing he heard was a loud _BOOM! _"What the hell was that!"

"Fiona." Michael replied without breaking motion. "Mulitov Cocktails are a specialty of hers."

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Booth groaned.

"I doubt he's helping." Michael quipped dryly.

Booth thought breifly about trying to reply, but then gave up. Forget tylenol. To get through this week he was going to need tranquilizers.

There was another loud crash and Agent Booth and Michael Westen settled down for the fight of their lives.

**A/N: Cliff Hanger! Please don't hate me. I know this took a little longer to post but please don't give up on me. I just had other things I had to do. Review! Review! Review! No ones reviewed in almost two days :(.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.**

Booth was having a truly bizzare day. It had started out normally: get up, take shower, argue with Bones. He was pretty sure he could pinpoint where things went wacky at about "talk with Michael Westen's mother." Where he thought things had definently jumped the curb on normality was "go head to head with a deadly super spy." And where he thought things had boarded the space ship out of Normal's atmosphere was around, "take on a pissed of Columbian drug cartel with Michael Westen and team."

Now Booth was crouching at an attic window with a rifle he was pretty sure had been purchased illegally and smuggled into the country by an ex-IRA operative, with next to no clue about how he had ended up there. However, since he was fighting for his life, he hadn't taken that much time to dwell on the matter.

Suddenly there was a knocking sound on the attic stairs and Booth spared a moment to look around. He saw Michael enter the attic. Booth looked back out the window and took out a few more Columbians.

"Nice shot." Michael commented as he rooted through a box.

Booth assessed the man more carefully and his mouth popped open. Michael looked... completely normal. No cuts or bruises, no stains on his suite, not a single hair out of place. He wasn't even sweating in the sweltering heat of the attic.

Michael turned back to Booth. "Can I help you with something? Because, if not I would really appreciate it if the Columbians stopped getting any closer." he said casually. Michael reached for another box.

"What are you looking for?" Booth asked _between_ watching the Columbians.

"Something, anything. Besides my mom wanted me to clean out the attic. The more things I can blow up the better. It saves me tripps up the stairs.

Booth fired off the shot quickly and efficently. He turned back to Michael who was still sorting through boxes. "So... what? Is this just another typical day for you? Because otherwise their is no way you could be this calm." he stated

"Pretty much." Michael answered

Their was a shout from below and Booth fired off more shots. "How on Earth are you still breathing?!" he called over another explosive bang.

"You know your not the first FED to ever ask me that. I'll tell you what I told him, I have no clue other than the fact-" he was interrupted by another explosion. "I eat a lot of yogurt!" He shouted.

Fiona sprinted up the stairs. "Michael, your mother has a very expansive liquor cabinet and a never ending supply of cigarrete lighters but I can't keep this up for much longer."

Michael finally found what he was looking for in the boxes and set the items down on the floor. "Well if this works right you won't have to."

Booth surveyed the items. They looked common place, screws, computer cables, bungee cords, a toilet brush, windew, ball barings, toy army men, some christmas lights, dairy creamer, tile spackle, and some type of metal box. "How exactly do you plan on saving our lifes with half the contents of the dollar store!"

"Whatch and learn. You learn super-secret things at spy school. Fi? Can I have your bomb kit and your hair pin?" Michael asked.

"Fine." she grumbled. "You owe me a new one on both!"

Michael stopped exasperated. "I owe you for a hair pin that will save all of our lives?!"

She smiled sweetly. "I'll spot you for the hairpin."

"Why do I always end up owing you for saving your life?" Michael wondered out loud as he began his work.

She kissed him lightly, "Because you love me." she informed him.

"Yes I love you." Michael worked quickly for another moment frowning slightly. "Give me your left hand."

"What?"

"Just do it Fi!"

"No! You have two perfectly functioning hands! Use them!"

Michael made a sound half way between exasperation and amusement then grabbed her hand in one of his, which also happened to be holding a box, while his other hand worked on his explosive. This made Booth nervous but decided not to voice this thought as the couple was clearly having an important moment.

Michael gave Fiona back her hand and went back to work. Fiona examined it as Michael worked and Booth took pot shots between glancing back into the attic.

Fiona got past examining her hand and grabbed Michael for a kiss.

"Should I take that as a yes?" Michael asked.

Fiona kissed him again. As Booth provided cover for two men sprinting into the house. Foot steps echoed up the stairs a moment later and someone who looked wierdly like Sam Axe and a tall bald man came on scene that Booth recognized as Jesse Porter. Jesse spared a glance at the couple and grabbed the bomb in progress and started to work.

Booth was momentarily side tracked. "Sam?"

"Oh. Hey Booth. Guess you met Minke and Fi."

Booth stuttered for a moment. Their was another bang. "We have a lot of catching up to do buddy I know this great bar-"

"Sam!" Jesse barked and looked over Booth. "Guy with a riffle who Sam knows but I don't. Plan your buddy catch up later when we aren't about to die."

"Oh! Jesse this is-"

"Sam! Angry, heavily armed, Columbians!"

"Right."

Fiona released Michael to breath and looked at the diamond now sparkling on her second finger. "it's beuatiful."

"I'll tell you how I wound up wih it if we don't die." Michael promised.

Fiona kissed him one more time. "This still doesn't get you off the hook for the explosives kit." she informed him before going to help Jesse with the bomb.

Michael was smiling after her and he shurgged slightly before murmuring. "I figured it wouldn't."

"Hold up!" Booth protested. "Did you just propose to you rgirlfreind in the middle of a deadly fire fight?" he questioned.

"Apparently." Michael said still smiling.

"And she said yes?" Booth asked still a little bit confused. Michael looked at him as if to say 'well duh!' Booth shook his head and gave up trying to understand anything that was going on.

"Wow!" Sam exclaimed. "Mikey you proposed?" Fiona lifted her hand for him to see the sparkle. "Good job Mikey!" Sam said smacking him on the back.

"The explosive is ready!" Jesse called. He stepped towards the window and lobbed it out. _BANG. _"Now the explosive is..." he said. Examining the damage. "Mixed with little bits of Columbian drug dealer."

"Nice." Michael commented. "And we didn't even blow up the house this time."

"This time?" Booth asked.

"We deal with strange people." Michael said, shrugging.

Booth followed the others down the stairs. "Mom! You can come out of the bathroom now!" Michael called.

Maddy came out of the bathroom with her shot gun and a new cigarrete.

"Hey Booth!" Sam called from the window. "Your backup is here!"

Booth turned and was half way out the door when he stopped. "Well are you coming?" he called.

"Mike?" Jesse asked. "Are we coming?"

Michael summed everything up and frowned. "I guess. I really don't want to spend more time with the government than what's necessary."

Fiona took his hand. "Oh look on the bright side Michael." she told him. "This will make a great story to tell the kids."

Michael groaned.

**A/N: Well? What do you think? reviews! **

**I did this late at night so no time to spell check. Sorry.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: This would have happened a whole lot sooner if I did own these shows, but I don't so you'll have to settle with reading this fanfic.**

Ziva David had grown up learning how to read people. It was one of the many skills her father had decided she needed once she had mastered walking. She had learned the dynamics of couples, families, black ops units, spies, SEALS, and terrorists units. However, she had never seen a black ops unit made up by three ex-spies, two of which were a couple, a retired SEAL, and a spies mother, all of whom could probably be defined as terrorists in multiple countries. It was truly bizarre.

During the ride back to the hotel Ziva had tried to work out whatever she could. Every single member of the team could obviously work individually but it was clear that they were a well-trained unit. From what she had seen every member had the skills needed for pretty much any task but they all looked to Michael as a leader.

She had marked out each member of the team. Sam Axe seamed the most relaxed of the group. His version of surveillance seamed to involve alcohol, and from his tan Ziva could tell that he spent the most time at the beach of the rest of the group. He also looked like he was well into his fifties where Michael and Jesse looked to be in their early forties. Yet, he automatically deferred to Michael in terms of organization.

Once Ziva had catalogued Sam she moved on to the man who Ziva knew from the files was Jesse Porter. He appeared to challenge Michael the most in terms of daily operations. Ziva saw Jesse ask Michael a whispered question, Michael merely frowned slightly and shook his head. Jesse had started to argue but Michael had cut him off with a look. That seemed to be how most of the interactions between the two went.

Michael's mother was fairly easy to classify as short fused, dangerous, and roughly maternal. Ziva saw her boss all of the boys into cleaning up their cuts and bruises as though they were simply children who had gotten into a fight at school. Ziva noticed that she actually could have a very soothing presence, although she obviously was proficient in the art of getting under Michael's skin.

Ziva recognized some of herself in Fiona. Her stubborn insistence that she could take care of herself, and a certain fiery determination. From what Ziva had seen she could conclude that Fiona was quick to strike and when it happened she wouldn't be holding back. Michael was the only one who could curb her impulse to simply shoot everything and be done. Fiona seemed very cautious about who she allowed to take care of her. Ziva had seen this demonstrated when McGee had approached with band aids and Fiona had taken them from him and told him in very simple language to piss off. Then, she had handed the band aids to Michael and allowed him to clean and bandage her cuts.

Michael was also the only one who Ziva couldn't read at all. He was obviously careful with planning, and deadly when he needed to be. But that and the fact that he was very dry and sarcastic, Ziva just couldn't figure him out. He obviously cared for his entire team, specifically Fiona. He took care of her without Fiona noticing. He stood and walked next to, and slightly behind her. He also slipped an arm around her almost automatically at times. Ziva doubted weather he even noticed his actions, it seamed more than likely to her that he had simply adopted the motions automatically out of habit.

The cars arrived at the hotel and everyone stepped out. Michael's team worked as a flawless unit to see and asses the space the second they arrived at the hotel.

"So, where are we having our 'little chat'?" Michael asked Gibbs.

"Upstairs. One of the rooms should be big enough." Gibbs answered already heading for the elevators with McGee next to him.

Sam looked to Michael who nodded, and Sam followed. He seemed to be talking to Agent Booth about everything that had happened in their lives since the last time they had worked together.

Ziva wasn't sure how she felt about the FBI agent yet. The best she could figure was that Booth was basically a cross between Gibbs and Tony. He was like Gibbs in that he had been a sniper, gone through trauma, had little patience with technology, and seemed to automatically fall into the leadership position. He was like Tony in his knowledge of movies and pop culture, along with his jokey personality.

Ziva watched Fiona and Michael walk together towards the elevator and Jesse immediately fall into step a few paces behind them.

She was about to follow when Tony came up behind her. "Hello, my ninja!" he greeted her.

Ziva groaned. She could barely stand that nick name. Tony had used it once and hadn't quit. "Hello Tony."

"Well you don't sound very excited Miss David."

"Why should I be excited Tony? We are dealing with several very dangerous highly trained individuals. We need to stay on our guard." She told him as she began to walk.

Tony fell in next to her. "Oh come on Zeee Va. Loosen up a bit, this is practically a government paid for vacation he said. He attempted to poke her in the side but she jumped quickly to the side.

"Don't. You. Dare." She said in a sharp voice.

"What?" Tony asked with a grin. "Are you ticklish Miss David?" This time his attempt to poke her was successful and Ziva jumped away again with a small squeak. Tony's grin got much wider as he catalogued this new weakness. He also neatly dodged the jab that Ziva aimed for his ribs.

"Tony. I swear to all that is holly, if you ever do that again I will personally cut out your spleen." She threatened.

Tony just renewed his grin and hopped lightly into the elevator. Ziva fumed silently and stepped in beside him.

The elevator was also occupied by Jesse, Michael and Fiona. Jesse gave them a quick glance before pressing the correct floor button. Fiona was leaning against Michael with her eyes closed and didn't bother to spare Tony and Ziva a single glance. Michael was leaning against the wall of the elevator with his arms wrapped protectively around Fiona.

His pale blue-gray eyes flashed between Tony and Ziva. The cold light in his eyes was enough to make Ziva feel an uneasy turning in her stomach. Throughout the elevator ride Ziva could never shake the feeling that Michael had been able to analyze much more of her than she had been able to observe about him. She could almost feel an aura of a dangerous sort of power coming from Michael and it was making her feel almost sea sick.

She had never been more relieved by any sound, then the cheery _Ding! _of the elevator when it arrived at the correct floor.

**A/N: Hey everybody! Sorry about the big gap between chapters but I had school and then no power which meant no internet. Sorry also if you were unhappy with the amount of plot in this chapter but I wanted to get a professional sounding analysis of Michaels team, and I thought the story needed more Ziva. In the next few chapters I will bring in more characters from the Jeffersonian, and I might even bring in Nate's ex-wife and Michael's nephew. Review if you want me to keep going! If not I have other stuff I can start to right.**

**P.S. How would people feel about a Buffy The Vampire Slayer cross with Bones? I was thinking there might be some thing the Powers that be are pulling with Angel and Booth. Any way, just a general poll. Let me know what you think.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I'm not rich which I probably would be if I owned the characters but I don't so sadly, still not rich.**

"So let me get this straight," Tony said as he paced across the hotel room. "You guys just blew up an entire Columbian drug cartel, and your not even just a little bit phased?" He watched Fiona, Michael, Sam, and Jesse exchange looks. "Really?" Tony asked sceptically. "Nothing?" Their was still no reaction. "Right," Tony said flopping back into a hotel chair next to Ziva. "Just checking."

Their was a long moment of silence. Michael, Sam, Fiona, Jesse, and Booth had just finished recounting their story while Maddy burned through multiple cigarettes. The whole thing had taken roughly 20 minutes. Ziva and Gibbs had kept solidly blank faces while Bones tended a large cut on Booth's face and listened with interest and a little concern. Tony had been sceptical and disbelieving whole McGee's jaw had nearly fractured against the ground.

"Sooooo... Nice talking to all of you!" Fiona chirped with false cheeriness as she started to head towards the door.

Michael caught her hand gently just as Booth said, "Hey hey! Hold on! We still have to figure out what to do about the dead marine."

Jesse shrugged, "Not really our fault not really our problem."

"Not your problem?" Gibbs said in a quiet, incredulous voice. He had worked with and interrogated plenty of professional killers, but the sheer amount of disinterest from these people was rubbing him the wrong way.

Michael looked at him very calmly and said, "We didn't pull the trigger and we didn't make him join a Columbian drug cartel. Therefore not our fault."

"Well you did twist him into a quivering mess of a psych case before sending out to kill the Columbian's with a gun that was loaded with blanks Mike." Sam pointed out.

Michael glared at him. "Not helping Sam!"

"Quivering mess of a psych case?" Ziva asked.

Michael shrugged. "It's one of the rules of covert ops. Never do anything yourself when you could just as easily make someone else do it. If you can make a bunch of bad guys kill each other, then it saves you the hassle."

Another moment of silence greeted his words. The statement had made everyone who didn't already know Michael realize what he was really capable of.

"So, anything else you government dudes want? 'Cause we got things to do. You know people with issues to charge money for solving?" Jesse asked impatiently.

"Yeah about that." Booth said. He sounded like he was preparing to duck and cover if it became necessary. "Your all going to need to come back to D.C with us and fill out some paper work for the FBI." Booth glanced at Gibb's. "Are you going to want to ask him any questions?" Booth asked with a jerk towards Michael's team.

Gibbs nodded silently. He had reverted back to silent and impassive the minute he had been offered an explanation to Michael's impassiveness.

Michael exchanged looks with the rest of his team. The looks on their faces ranged from boredom, to resignation, to distaste. Michael didn't much want to be in D.C where the general opinions about him ranged, in Jesse's words from 'The he was done wrong folks and the They should have shot him folks.' But if it couldn't be avoided and the rest of the team didn't mind then he couldn't see a good way to say no.

He sighed, "Fine."

Booth was a little surprised. He had thought it would be harder to get the trained ex-spies to agree.

"Michael..." Fiona whined slightly. "If we are tacking a trip to D.C than I will need to go home and pack."

"Aw really Fi?" Michael groaned.

Fiona's eyes narrowed dangerously before an idea occurred to her and she brightened. "Well I suppose you could always buy me a whole new wardrobe once we get to D.C." She suggested.

Michael looked at Booth and Gibbs. "We're gonna need to make a stop before D.C."

Booth nodded and grabbed Bones's wrist to check her watch. "We can't go now anyway it's to late to leave."

"But Booth." Bones complained. "I have dark age bones to analyze."

"And they will still be dark age and bony when we get back to D.C at a normal time, when you can actually get work done without my worrying that you'll fall asleep and stab yourself with a scalpel or something." Booth answered.

Bones huffed but curled up in her chair next to Booth. She stubbornly tried to keep her eyes open to prove Booth's point about falling asleep at work wrong but she couldn't help her eyes drifting shut. Eventually she gave up fighting against sleep and nestled her head into Booth's shoulder so she was more comfortable. In a few minutes she was asleep.

"Okay. As long as we've got everything sorted I think everyone should get some sleep." Gibbs said. "Mr. Porter, Mr. Axe, you can sleep on the couches in my and agent McGee's room. Miss Glennane, Miss Westen, I'm sure you can have the couches in the room Dr. Brennan and Agent David are sharing."

Their was no response from Ziva for a long moment. "Ziva?" Gibbs asked before checking over the back of the couch he had seen Ziva sitting on to find her curled up like a cat next to Tony. Gibbs indulged in a slight smile at seeing her with her head on Tony's chest. The two bickered so often during the day that it was amusing to see how contentedly silent they were when they were tired.

"Tony. Carry her back to her room." He ordered before walking to his bed. McGee had gone already.

Tony nodded and scooped up Ziva while heading towards the door. Ziva woke up about half way there and her eyes snapped open. "What do you think your doing Tony?" she grumbled. Normally the toan she used would have been enough to make Tony cower but when she was that sleepy it only made him smile.

"I think I'm playing the dashing hero to a very sleepy Israeli." he answered her with a grin.

"Don't be ridi-i-i-c-." Ziva started to say before she was cut of by her own yawn. She closed her eyes again and curled back into Tony's chest.

Sam let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like, "whipped."

Madeline followed them to the other room.

"Michael come help me set up the pullout couch." Fiona ordered suddenly.

Michael immediately got up and followed her out the door.

"Although not to that point." Sam said. He used his normal volume of voice this time.

"No kidding." Booth said with a smile. His attention cut off when Bones shifted a bit.

Sam looked pointedly at the sleeping doctor. "Speaking of whipped-"

"Shut up and pour me a drink Sam." Booth growled out.

"Can do buddy."

* * *

In the other room Michael and Tony had tucked in Ziva and Fiona while Madeline had managed to fall asleep almost instantly..

They stopped for a moment to watch the sleeping girls.

"It's wierd isn't it?" Tony commented. "The two most dangerous women in probably the entire world and they still look adorable when they sleep."

"Three of the most dangerous women in the world. Although I'll grant you my mother is a little less than adorable." Michael said smiling a little, then he and Tony left to go and have a drink.

**A/N: I'm sorry! repeat times 100000! I had a ton of stuff I had to do for homework. I hope you like this new chapter and review for me! Happy Valentines Day in case I don't post tomorrow!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Normally this would be witty and amusing but right now I'm tired so just refer back to one of the other chapters.**

Bones was struggling to wrap her head around the entire situation. It wasn't s feeling she was familiar with being a genius.

She had spent nearly the entire flight back to D.C trying to relate Michael Westens group functions to an anthropological standpoint. However she hadn't been able to identify any lines of influence.

Michael was clearly in charge. He fell into the alpha male leadership position in almost exactly the way that Booth did. He didn't act like he had chosen a leadership position, he didn't even seemed like he enjoyed it very much. To Dr. Brennan's eye he looked like someone who had been unofficially voted into the leadership position without knowing he had been elected, and then hadn't been given the opportunity to consider whether or not he actually wanted the job.

Mr. Axe appeared to Brennan as the automatic second to Michael. However, he didn't look like the type of second who would ever plan a hostile take over. He was more like the second who gave advice and was ready to step in if Michael wound up dying. Brennan had then tried to analyze Jesse and only managed to work out that he had merely not been given the quality to automatically vote him in to leadership where Michael had.

Madeline appeared to be the only one who had the ability to force the others to take care of themselves. She had also tried to analyze Fiona but had concluded that, from an anthropological stand point, there was no way in HELL that it was possible. It just couldn't be done.

She had had more luck when she tried to analyze the NCIS team. They had a structured team. Gibbs was the leader like Booth but he didn't seem to have any of the sense of humor that Booth did, or it would seem the harsh, dry, irony that Michael used to pass for humor. If you looked at it like a family then Gibbs was definently the father.

Using that medifore Tony was the goofy, protective, oldest son and McGee would be the geeky younger brother. Bones had spent a bit more time on Ziva but had worked out that the closest thing she could be compared to was the oldest brothers girlfriend who was also the adopted daughter.

All groups worked in seamless teams. Bones just wondered how they would all work together.

"Hiya Bones." Booth said as he slid into his seat next to her. "What's up?"

"Not much." Bones replied and then stopped for a moment considering. "We are at quite a high altitude and descending so the chances of their being anything above us are slowly increasing"

"I meant in your head Bones." he clarified.

"Oh, then I was considering the anthropological dynamics of the groups of people we are supposed to work with for an undefined amount of time." she explained.

They chatted idly about the cases they had waiting until the plane touched down on the tarmac.

* * *

Michael was feeling extremely edgy. He had barely left Miami for 8 years. He hadn't been allowed to, and now he was back in D.C. Which wasn't bad in it's self. He knew the city lay out, and after traveling across over half the world every city was pretty much the same. What made him uncomfortable was the amount of people in D.C. who he had both worked with, killed, and nearly been killed by. That wasn't so bad either, he had worked long enough in intelligence that the 'Kill Michael Westen' bandwagon was getting pretty crowded. It just happened to be true that a lot of the people on that bandwagon resided in D.C.

He was jerked from his slightly brooding thoughts by Fiona's arrival. She rubbed his shoulders lightly. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Wondering how much trouble we're going to run into." he replied in a low voice.

"Oh don't be." She answered casually. "Besides if we do run into trouble, I have a sweet little block of C4 that I have been dying to break in."

"Fi this is serious."

"Relax Michael." She answered rolling her eyes.

"We'll be in D.C. The only other place that wants me dead more then here is Russia." he commented.

Fiona plonked down on his lap and looked at him sternly. "Michael. As your fiance I forbid you from worrying about such trivial things. Now, I have a wedding to plan and you have my wedding to pay for."

Michael smiled and picked up his hand to examine the ring residing comfortably on her finger.

"It's a beautiful ring Michael." She told him.

"I'm glad you like it." he replied.

Fiona glanced quickly around the plane. The government had actually sprung for a private flight for all of them because it cleared them from having to explain Michael's lack of ID. And Job history. And general life documentation. Not to mention the rather thick interpole files with their names on them. Fi kissed Michael for a moment before jolting at the rustle from Madeline's steps.

"Oh don't you ducks stop because of me." Maddy said as she kept walking. "I'm just happy to see the two of you so happy together!" She slipped quietly away.

"Oh Michael! That's another thing for you to think about!" He looked at her questioningly. "You haven't told your mom yet!"

Michael's head could have broken a board with they amount of force that went into it hitting the seat back as he groaned in dismay.

"There there." Fiona said. She patted his arm soothingly as Michael added this to his mental list of 'Thing's **n****ot** to tell Mom for a while' list. Sadly, that list was getting pretty extensive.

"This is your captain speaking. We are beginning our decent into D.C. Please return to your seats and restore them to your previous upright position.**" **Came a crakly voice over the intercom.

Michael pulled up his seat but kept his eyes firmly closed. He opened them when his phone started to ring. He looked at it in confusion for a minute. Only five people hed ever been given the number for that phone and four of them were in that plane. The fifth one had been Nate, and he was most definently dead. Michael frowned and checked the caller ID. He didn't recognize the number.

He flipped it open. "Who are you and how the hell did you get my phone number." he asked bluntly into the receiver.

The whole plane cabin went silent as every occupant listened into that end of the conversation.

"Umm is this Michael Westen?" Asked a high female voice that rung a very distant bell in Michael's memory.

"That depends. Who the hell are you?" he asked again. He ignored the memory bells in favor of the alarm ones.

"Michael? If that is you, this is- well this is-"

"Spit it out whoever you are." Michael prompted impatiently.

"This is your brothers ex-wife."

She was met with absolute silence as Michael tried to process this.

"Michael? Michael? This is Ruth."

Michael's brain had taken a lot. He was stressed, worried, tense, and he hadn't slept longer than 4 hours at a time in almost two weeks. Really he couldn't be blamed for his brain's absolute refusal to process any type of new information. The information simply refused to compute. He did the only thing his brain could come up with under the circumstances. The only option his brain could even get around to processing.

So idiotic and potentially life threatening as it could have turned out to be, he blinked repeatedly for a moment. And handed the phone to Fiona.

**A/N: So? What are you waiting for?! Do some freaking reviewing!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I'm not Hart Hanson, Matt Nix, or Don Belisario so none of these characters belong to me.**

Gibbs was intrigued but hiding it very well. It always caught his interest when people took phone calls. The reactions they used could always tell you something about who was on the other end. Gibbs was also intrigued by Michael Westen. The man was an enigma and Gibbs knew something about those.

Michael dressed impeccably and kept military posture and he rarely ever showed any form of expression in front of everyone else, but Gibbs could recognized that he forced it. Gibbs had been watching discretely from the aisle opposite from Michael and saw that when it was only Fiona Glennane around he finally allowed himself to drop pretenses. Almost as soon as Fiona had approached his shoulders had slumped, his eyes had closed, and the tension had drained from his face. It was almost like someone had pulled a plug and the strain and the leadership character Michael put on gurgled down the drain like water from a bath.

It was a look Gibbs recognized after he finally got home when a case was over, only Michael looked like the burden had actually been removed, while Gibbs knew that he only ever looked like the bourdon had been temporarily lightened. Gibbs though that Fiona probably had something to do with the relief.

Michael had immediately picked the mantel right back up as soon as his phone had rang. Gibbs watched as he asked who it was. Whoever was calling was clearly not supposed to be a part of Michael's life judging from his completely blank expression. The whole cabin had gone silent the minute that Michael had picked up the phone and Sam and Jesse looked like they were poised to do something drastic. Madeline was watching in concern and Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth had stopped their bickering. Gibbs could pretty much compare those two to Tony and Ziva in terms of how they acted.

Michael looked blank for another moment before silently handing the phone to Fiona.

* * *

Fiona watched Michael's face go blank. After a moment he silently handed the phone to her.

Fiona gave him a questioning look but MIchael just shook his head looking lost, so Fiona took the phone.

"Hello? Hello? Michael are you there?" came a high pitched female voice.

"No, this is Fiona. Who are you and what do you want?" Fiona asked. She was trying her best to place the voice, she had the vague impression of a tiny women with blonde her and a shrill voice.

"Fiona? Oh thank god it's Ruth. Michael's former sister in law." Ruth said.

That was all Fiona needed to place the voice. She remembered being vaguely amused and severely irritated by the women, but not really paying her much attention. They had had a decent chat about shoes and had gone shopping together while Nate helped Michael with a job. Although, why she was calling Michael's one permanent cell phone was still no clearer. "Hey Ruth. How are you?" Fiona asked as she turned slightly and gestured for Sam and Jesse to relax.

The tension in the room decreased by a huge level. Sam and Jesse relaxed and Madeline frowned but sat back comfortably in her seat. Agents Booth, David, DiNozzo, McGee, and Gibbs were still watching carefully and Dr. Brennan was watching her like she was seeing a fascinating experiment unfold.

"Um, I'm alright I guess." Ruth answered.

Fiona rolled her eyes, "People don't just call up the brother of the husband they left without explanation taking a child with them. So either tell me what's going on or I'm hanging up." Fiona told her.

"Okay, well the thing is-. I'm in a little bit of trouble. Michael's kind of trouble, and I couldn't think of anybody else to call." Ruth said nervously.

"Well we're all kind of in the middle of something right now. How about you leave a number and we'll call you when we're free to help?" Fiona suggested using her 'this isn't a suggestion, it sounds like one but it is actually your only option' voice.

"This is kind of important." Ruth protested weekly.

"I'm sure it can wait." Fi said. Fiona Glennane had never had a very lengthy attention span, and this women was beginning to severely test her nerves.

"No it can't!" Ruth protested. She sounded like she was on the verge of a nervous break down.

"Ruth, calm down alright. Just explain what's going on so that we can try to help you." Fiona reasoned.

"It's Charlie! They've been threatening him. They've been threatening my baby and I don't even know who they are!"

Ruth sniffled as Fiona said quietly, "Charlie?" Madeline's head snapped up. Jesse was looking confused, Sam looked concerned, and Michael was once again unreadable even for her."Yeah," Ruth sniffed again. "About a month ago I was a witness for a court case against a guy I saw shoot a man on the street. After that i started getting some threatening phone calls from people I didn't recognize, and then-" Ruth broke off to cry some more.

Fiona was now giving the women on the other end of the phone her full attention. Not helping a women who had walked out on Michael's brother was one thing, not helping someone who's child was being threatened because she had tried to do the right thing was another. Everyone else was watching her phone call but Fiona decided to ignore them until she could calm down Ruth enough to get the rest of the story and work something out.

"I can't say more on the phone." Ruth said as she took deep breaths to calm down. "My address is 33 Oak Leaf Drive in Maryland alright?" with that Ruth hung up.

Fiona closed the phone and handed it back to Michael. She avoided the question in his eyes by curling up against him. There was absolute silence for a moment and she could feel Michael stroking her hair until Madeline said, "You have to help her." calmly.

Michael let out a sigh that Fiona knew would go unnoticed by everyone else. She also felt his arm tighten almost imperceptibly around her before he forced his muscles to relax. Fiona knew that Michael would help. He could never ignore people who asked him to save them. It was his own personal weakness and Fiona knew him well enough to know he wasn't going to start fighting it now.

Michael would help Ruth even if it got him killed. And Fiona would help him because if he died, she wouldn't be far behind.

**A/N: You see that little button at the bottom of the screen? You know, the one that says Review? The one that so many people have been blatantly ignoring? You see it? Good. Now CLICK ON IT FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT YOU HOLD EVEN SLIGHTLY SACRED! Okay, now I'm calm. Review for me! :) :) :).**


	17. Chapter 17

** Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, Booth and Brennan would have been together for a long time. Tony and Ziva would probably be married, and this episode would have been worked in a long time ago.**

Unlike Michael, Booth had started feeling better almost as soon as the plane had touched down. D.C. was _his _city. His home and he felt safe there. Or rather, as safe as he could ever make himself feel anywhere. It was a step up from Afghanistan that was for sure. However, Michael didn't seem to feel the same way.

Michael's posture was one Booth recognized. It was standard form for a soldier; apparently relaxed to any civilian, but to a trained eye he was tense and alert. Booth noticed that he always kept his weight evenly distributed on the balls of his feet, equally ready to fight or run. And even though he kept his head facing forward, his eyes never stopped shifting around his settings.

Booth recognized t as the look of someone who had been simultaneously hunting, and being hunted non-stop for a very long time, and who probably hadn't gotten a good night's sleep for most of that time.

Booth had had to deal with enough intelligent, psycho, killers and h had been a sniper long enough to know the stress of being hunted and hunting long-term to know that it could have one of two results. One, was a total systems breakdown, and the other was hyper awareness that border-lined on paranoia.

Michael had apparently gone with the second option.

Personally Booth thought that the whole of team Westen needed a vacation but there was way too much that they apparently needed to deal with. Booth had to admire the amount of work they were taking on. From what he had heard they were about to answer the government questions and then go save some distant removed relation.

Booth had already privately decided that he would help. He wasn't sure when the decision had been made but as soon as he had heard that there was a kid involved he had known their was no question.

Booth was jerked from his thoughts when Tony stepped from the plane with a loud yawn. "Well! Home sweet home right?" he said.

"My version of home involves air conditioning and a bed." Ziva contradicted him.

"It was a metaphor Ziva." Tony said with exasperation.

Booth couldn't help but smile a bit at that. Their arguing was so similar to what he went through every day with Bones.

He pulled his thoughts away from that when everyone reached the government cars. He referred to Agent Gibbs with the next question, "So where are we doing the 20 questions? J. Edgar Hoover or the navy yard."

"What do you want to do?" the older man asked.

Booth tried to ignore the feeling that he was being put through an appraisal test by the older agent. It was a feeling that seemed fairly constant around him.

Booth considered for a moment and he wasn't sure why, but he flipped a tiny sign towards Michael. He lifted three fingers behind his back in the shape of a W and then pointed one finger at himself and two at agent Gibbs.

He was using a basic military signal that troops usually used when they were in a combat situation with more than one hostile. The signal was usually used to coördinate before a fight.

This time the context was a little different but the message was still the same: _Which do you prefer?_

Michael was momentarily taken a back. He wasn't sure what Booth's motivation was in giving him the option. He did learn something however, Booth definitely knew he had been in the military. He hesitated for a moment longer before leaning against the car and tapping the roof twice lightly.

Booth heard the tap and smiled inwardly before replying. "The Hoover building is closer."

Gibbs nodded and everyone started getting into the car before Michael spoke. "Sam, Jesse. Why don't you take my mom to Ruth's house while Fi and I take care of the questions?"

Tony raised his eyebrows at Gibbs and started to step in front of Jesse and Sam as they made to leave. "That's not going to be possible." Gibbs said evenly.

"They don't know anything Fiona and I don't." Michael replied just as calmly.

"Mike," Sam said quietly. "Maybe they have a point, I mean we don't even have a car how are the three of us going to get to Maryland?"

"I have a car here you can take." Michael said in a tilted voice. It was clear that he really did not want to hear any other plan at that moment.

Fiona was giving him a questioning gaze. Michael shrugged. "I have supplies in every major city." That made sense to everyone but McGee. Operatives stashed supplies the way squirrels stashed nuts.

Sam nodded and retreated.

"Michael-" Maddy started to complain.

"Mom please. I am _trying _to do something good here okay?" Michael's voice sounded more tired and stressed than it had before. "I screwed up Nate's life enough while he was living it." His voice was quite when it broke the momentary silence that had set in. "I got Nate killed mom. I got my own little brother killed. The least I can do now is help the people he cared about as soon as I can."

Everyone was silent after that and Fiona hugged him while all the others shifted closer to him. Michael turned to Gibbs and his face was stiff and determined. "I know you want answers, and you'll get them, but I have people I need to help, and if you won't let that happen, then you can bet that I will take it personally and you and I will have one hell of an issue."

Gibbs was silent for a moment before nodding to Tony who reluctantly stepped out of the way for the others. Michael handed Sam a piece of paper which Booth guessed must contain Ruth's address and the place were Michael was keeping his supplies.

They were almost gone when Gibbs spoke. "Tony, Ziva, go with them."

Michael looked at him skeptically. "What are you doing."

"I want all of you watched." Gibbs replied bluntly. "Besides, from what I know about your situation you need all of the support possible, Tony and Ziva are the best there is."

Sam and Jesse looked to Michael who nodded to them. Sam gestured for Tony and Ziva to follow him and returned Tony's grin. Jesse just rolled his eyes and walked away.

As soon as they were gone Michael turned back around towards Gibbs and Booth. "Alright then. You agreed with me terms, I agreed with yours, are we done now?" his voice was sardonic and flat.

Booth recognized something else in Michael then. Because Michael Westen was a gambler. He kept his cards close to the vest and his emotions at the door like any good poker player. He defined his assets and weaknesses and put plans in place that no one would understand until it was already rolling. He didn't bet more than he was willing to lose and Booth was willing to bet that he would almost always break even, and because he was careful and unafraid to make risks he was automatically a damn good gambler. Only he was used to gambling with people lives instead of chips.

Gibbs seamed to recognize something of this because he nodded and got into the car.

Before Michael and Fiona got in the car Booth heard Fiona murmur, "Michael what you said earlier-"

"Not now Fi." He cut in quietly. He forced a smile and pulled her into the car. "Come on smile Fi we have a date," he said with another tight smile. "With the U.S. government."

**A/N: Well the FBI should be fun right? How am I doing so far? Tell me now and no one gets hurt. Hope you liked the chappy and if your all really nice, then I won't totally give up on this story which I really don't want to do because I have a devious plan. (Muhahahah, Muhahahah). More to follow tomorrow if I get some nice reviews.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer**:** Still a girl, not a forty-year old guy in L.A/ Miami so I'm not the creator of these characters.**

FBI psychologist Lance Sweets watched the man in the interrogation room. Sweets had seen lots of people in these interrogation rooms, but he had never seen anyone look so comfortable with the situation. Michael Westen didn't look tense any more like he had when they arrived. Now he man just looked tired, borderline bored. Sweets had even seen him yawn a few times as he answered the agents questions.

Sweets was supposed to be analyzing Michael's answers but he was having a hard time finding anything. Booth had told him that Michael was trained at resisting interrogation, but the way Michael was working the interrogators backwards was nothing short of impressive. Michael seemed quite practiced at answering the questions with the bare minimum of details so that the agents couldn't ask any other questions, but still couldn't learn anything. Miss Glennane was doing the same thing only with slightly more bite in her answer's.

Sweets glanced back down at part of the psych evaluation in Michael's file. From what Sweets could tell, the psych evaluation was one of the only parts of the file that hadn't been redacted to the point where it was nothing but black ink. The part that made Sweets uneasy was where it said:

**Westen has a pronounced gift for simultaneous interrogation and counter interrogation. In evaluations, Westen almost managed to learn more about the trained interrogation specialist than the specialist learned about him.**

Sweets looked back up when the door to the interrogation room opened and Booth walked in to talk to Michael.

Michael became more alert to, "Agent Booth. I guess their breaking out the big guns consider me flattered, although I am surprised about the lack of a polygraph machine." Sweets couldn't help but smile a bit at that. He mentally noted how Michael was managing to imply that all the proceedings were pointless while still cooperating with them.

"Sorry to disappoint about that," Booth said sitting in the chair across from Michael. "But polygraphs are expensive and I don't think it would have made much of a difference to you."

Michael shrugged, allowing that assumption. Polygraphs were a little harder to beat than a human but it was the same basic concept; Beatable.

"So as long as I'm still stuck here, what else do you need to know agent Booth?" Michael asked.

"What can you tell me about the death of Tomas Carr?" Booth asked, watching Michael carefully. Sweets watched Michael's to.

Michael's face closed off, and the light behind his eyes went black and Sweets couldn't help the cold shiver that ran down his back at the expression. He had never seen a living person with eyes that looked that dead.

"Carr tried to kill me and was a traitor He tried to get me to help. I made my refusal known in bullet form, and then he became a corpse instead of a traitor." Michael deadpanned.

There was a brief silence while Booth tried to swallow that nugget of information. "What about the death of Anson Fullerton?" Booth asked.

If it was possible, Michael's face went even blacker. "I answered all of these questions in a report. Go _read it._" The last words were like ice chips. Sweets noted his obvious aversion to that line of questioning.

"Why can't you answer my question?" Booth prodded. Sweets felt a stab of admiration, if someone was glaring at him the way Michael was glaring at Booth, he would have backed up by now.

Michael's face suddenly forcibly lightened. "There are some things I will talk about and some things I won't. This is one of the things I won't and you can't legally make me because it doesn't have anything to do with the case your currently investigating."

Dr. Brennan who had been silent for a while stopped Booth from asking any more questions by tapping him on the shoulder. She had been studying Michael for a while, and some physical aspects had caught her attention. "May I ask you a question Mr. Westen?"she inquired.

Michael nodded once.

"You have a number of bones that show evidence of recent and previous remodeling such as your Ulna, Radius, and Phalanges. As well as your mandible and you walk as though you feel a large amount of pain radiating from your 3rd and 4th Ribs. What can you say about those injuries?" she asked.

It was true, Michael had been gentle with his Ribs ever since a job a few weeks ago that involved a particularly violent arms dealer and a large explosion from an even larger block of C4. He had been used to breaking bones in his hands and arms since he was a kid, but he didn't particularly like the idea of going into his life history for the federal authorities. He simply answered, "Effects of the job."

Bones bit her lip. She could tell that there was more to that and it was her first instinct to push until she got her answers. Booth guessed her intentions and shook his head slightly. She frowned and resolved to ask more later.

There was another small silence while Booth tried to find a question that would actually _get _him some answers. The silence was broken by the shrill ring of a cell phone.

"You can get that." Booth informed Michael.

He checked the caller ID and flipped the phone open next to his ear.

Booth stopped him, "Put it on speaker phone," he ordered.

Michael forced a smile before placing the phone on the middle of the table and placed it on speaker. "Helloooo?" he questioned.

"Yeah Mikey," Sam's voice said. "Look, we've got a bit of a problem."

Michael dropped his head into his hands and barely stopped from groaning in response to his rapidly growing headache. "What _kind _of a problem Sam?"

"Umm.. well. You know how you kind of hated your brothers ex? How exactly did you feel about your nephew?" there was the slight sound of a baby crying in the background.

Michael clenched and relaxed his jaw a few times to get enough control over his voice to keep it even, "_Why_?"

_"_Well, Ruth is a, well, a little bit dead, and Charlie is um, well not." Sam explained awkwardly. He hated being the one who had to give Mike news when he already had so much to worry about, but Jesse was checking the perimeter and Madeline was taking care of Charlie. He braced himself for some form of yelling but all he got was a rush of static as Michael sighed.

Michael was rubbing his temples to focus. As a spy he was used to accepting and adapting to situations. It was something he was used to, Hell it was even something he was good at. The ability had kept him alive in his professional career, now he was just adapting the skill set for this situation. "How long will it take you to get here with Charlie?"

"Are we talking legally or illegally?"

"Whichever's faster Sam." Michael told him, which might not have been the best of moves considering that agents from the FBI, and NCIS not to mention a forensic anthropologist and a shrink were listening to every word. However, in this situation Michael really didn't care.

Sam considered briefly, "an hour and a half."

"Make it one." Michael told him before hanging up.

Sam shrugged, "Can do."

Michael took a deep breath before looking back at the agents. "So, I hope you don't mind but my nephew is coming to stay for a while and some people are possibly coming to kill him. Now, you people help me or stay out of the way your choice. I won't hold it against you. Get in my way and you'll regret it."

Booth looked at agent Gibbs who nodded solidly. Gibbs could get away with almost anything at work. All he had to do was make sure it didn't blow over badly on NCIS. Booth had decided already to help Michael if he could, and if he told the bureau he was working a secret joint case with NCIS and explained the situation to Andrew Hacker he wouldn't have any problems.

Booth looked directly at Michael. "Tell your people to meet at The Jeffersonian Institution," he said.

"Why?" Michael asked suspiciously. He wasn't an idiot, and he definitely wasn't having Sam, Jesse, Charlie, and his mother walking into a federal ambush.

"Because your job just got some federal help," Gibbs replied.

**A/N: Reviews feed the soul people. I hope you've been liking what I've been doing with the plot.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Nope. They're not mine.**

Sam was very slowly losing his mind. Almost anyone who had ever spent nearly an hour in the car with Anthony DiNozzo Jr could pretty much understand his mind set. Sam had been getting a non-stop analysis of pretty much every spy movie ever made while Ziva tried repeatedly to shut him up but it wasn't going to well. Jesse had barely said a word for the entire trip and Maddy had been buisy entertaining Charlie.

"And then Clooney had this great line-"

"Tony!" Ziva shouted, finally succeeding in shutting Tony up. "Shut up! Charlie has finally gotten to sleep and I will be damned if you wake him up!" She shout whispered.

"Oh come on! I'm not going to wake the kid up with a plot summary of Ocean's 11!" Tony argued back.

He was almost immediately disproved by the tired three year old letting out several more quite cries.

"Shh shh." Mady soothed.

The little boy refused to be calmed and started to cry again. "Maybe he's hungry?" Tony suggested.

Madeline smiled at him and privately decided to get a little pay back. "Wonderful idea!" she complimented before handing Charlie to Tony. "Hold him while I get the food."

Tony held the child awkwardly and he immediately began to cry more loudly. "I don't think he likes you." Ziva commented.

"Well then, Miss All-Children-Love-Me, why don't _you_ hold the bundle of joy?" he suggested bitingly.

Ziva glared at him from her seat by the window before holding out her arms to take Charlie. Tony looked slightly doubtful before handing Charlie to her. "Hi Charlie. I'm Ziva," she cooed to the crying infant. "Can you say that? ZeeVa." Charlie stopped crying and gulped several times before he sniffed loudly, stuck a thumb into his mouth, and buried his face in Ziva's hair.

Tony gaped for several minutes, and made his very best impersonation of a fish. Ziva continued talking softly to Charlie as the sniffs and gulps slowed down. Sam and Jesse let out twin sighs of relief at the momentary silence.

Mady straightened up with a container of dry cheerios in her hand and smiled at Ziva, "I think he likes you. Do you have children?"

Tony almost chocked on the mouth full of water he had just swallowed.

Ziva spared another moment to glare at him before answering Madeline's question with a warm smile. "No, but I had a sister Tali. My mother died giving birth to her and I was nine years old at the time. My father was almost never at home so I took care of her."

Mady nodded. "Would you like to feed him? I was going to, but he looks so comfortable I don't want to wake him up."

Ziva nodded and took the Cheerios from Madeline. She proceeded to feed them to Charlie until he yawned widely, and slipped off to sleep on Ziva's lap.

Tony had been watching the process with a distant but happy expression, when he spoke again it was in a quieter voice. "Now that's something I never thought I would get the chance to see." he said with a grin,"Maternal Ziva."

Ziva Gibbs slapped him sharply.

"Ow! Jesus David it was a compliment!" he protested.

"Really?" Ziva questioned. " Well, in that case, thank you Tony."

"No problem," Tony mumbled rubbing his soar head.

Madeline grinned at the display. They were a lot like Michael and Fi a few years ago. Speaking of which, she had to do some more poking at those two, something was definently shifty with their behavior.

* * *

Meanwhile, the pair in question were about to receive a lovely tour of The Jeffersonian Medical Legal Lab. Michael supposed that it was a very beautiful building for anyone who wasn't like him. They probably saw a series of swooping beautiful windows, but all he saw were several prime openings for a sniper with limited tactical cover. And that roof? That roof was _definently _not safe.

He mapped out the exits (4 of them). And possible weapons (26 visible). That were possibly available to him and Fiona if they had to run for it. He wasn't necessarily planning on having to run, but it was just an automatic response. He could tell by Fi's shifting gaze that she was doing the same thing.

Cam walked up to them, "You must be Michael Westen and Fiona Glennane. I'm Doctor Camille Saroyan the head of this lab. It's very nice to meet you." She held out her hand to be shaken. Michael regarded the hand and the women attached to it before ruling that neither one was a threat in the current situation. He shook her hand. Fiona followed suite.

Angela and Hodgins approached, bringing the sounds of bickering with them. "I'm just saying Angie, that their is defanently evidence for the second shooter theory!" Hodgins argued.

"Sweety, you promised to drop that." Angela reminded him.

"No I promised to drop it in front of Booth." he looked around. "I see no Booth."

"Ahem." Cam coughed for attention but they ignored her. She was used to that habit by now.

Angela was getting more frustrated. She looked for a helper in the conversation. She spotted one in the form of Wendell Gray. "Hey Wendel!" the blonde intern looked up. "Get over here!" she called.

Wendell hurried over. "What's up?"

"Tell Hodgins there was no second shooter!" She commanded.

Wendell hesitated and tried to decide between telling the truth and possibly taking a beating, or abandoning some principles and staying safe. He threw caution to the winds. "Actually based on recent studies in field conditions the second shooter theory-"

Cam let out a shrill whistle and the others stopped talking. "People people! We have some company who are former CIA so why don't we pretend that we aren't overgrown high school students?" She was greeted with more silence. "Good, now this is Dr. Jack Hodgins, he has degrees in entomology and particulates. Ms. Angela Montenegro is our artist, and she takes care of most of our computer functions. Mr. Wendell Gray is Dr. Brennans assistant.

Michael and Fiona summed up the group and decided to proceed with introductions. "I'm Michael Westen, and this is Fiona Glennan." Michael told the scientists.

Angela grinned. "Oh so your Michael Westen." she looked him up and down. "I have to say your government ID photo does not come anywhere near doing you justice."

Michael's only reaction was to blink at her and wrap one arm around Fiona.

Hodgins decided that the conversation wasn't worth it anymore and decided to take advantage of the CIA background. "So you see Wendell agrees with me. Now I'm asking you did the government cover up the second-"

"I will kill you with this pen." Angela interrupted before dragging Wendell away with her to help with a skull reconstruction.

Cam gave up on the fight for decency with her employees and leaned back against the wall. Hodgins waited until Angela was out of earshot before leaning in and asking, "Could she actually kill me with her pen?"

"Yes." Michael answered flatly.

"Really?" Hodgins asked uncertainly.

"Oh yeah. At least 12 ways if she put her mind to it." Fiona answered. A thought occurred to her suddenly, "Michael did I ever tell you about the time when I posed as a secretary to take out a Russian mob boss?"

"I was there Fi," he reminded her.

"Oh," she stopped. "Well it's a good story any way," Fiona launched into the story while Cam and Hodgins listened in amazement. Michael listened quietly and added in the occasional detail when it was needed. A few minutes later Booth and Brennan returned and joined the audience for the story. After a few minutes the pair had the entire lab listening with rapt attention as they worked.

The doors swooshed open and everyone's attention immediately shifted.

The first people through were Sam and Jesse followed immediately by Tony. Madeline followed with Ziva who held Charlie on her hip. Gibbs noted that Tony was lugging Ziva's gear along with his own and couldn't help but smile.

Michael ran a quick damage assessment of his team that Booth recognized was military procedure. Then he asked. "Did you have any trouble getting here?"

"Well if you count a crying baby, breaking every speed limit imaginable, and getting a word for word analysis of all 3 Ocean's movies as trouble." Jesse answered before doping the bag he was carrying.

"So it went okay then." Michael concluded.

"Michael, you should say hi to your nephew." Maddy prompted when she saw Michael edging slightly farther away from the baby. Michael had never been completely comfortable taking care of children even though he was good at it, but Madeline had decided that that habit would be changing.

Anyone who knew Michael watched him carefully as he shifted forward and held his arms out in a rough cradle to take Charlie. They had all learned that Michael could take out a cartel with no trouble, but he still looked uncomfortable with his nephew.

Charlie however, was perfectly comfortable being held by Michael. After a few minutes of everyone watching Michael they couldn't help smiling at the picture.

Charlie rolled over sleepily and looked up at Michael. He considered him for a moment with big dark eyes before burbling, "Dada?" before going back to sleep.

Michael's face boar a remarkable resemblance to the expression of someone who had been hit with a low grade tazer.

**A/N: Hey! So what do you think? Tell me in reviews!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Refer to previous chapters**

Every single one of Michael's muscles had frozen like he had been sprayed with liquid nitrogen the minute Charlie had called him Daddy. Fiona thought he looked quite similar to the way he had when she had tossed him a large chunk of C4 explosive with a detonator half way wired in to it.

Fiona recognized that he was doing what he had always done when he needed to absorb large sections of news or new information. His muscles hadn't jerked or tightened. They had merely frozen in place. Michael had also wiped his face clean of any emotion so that no one could tell what his response to the information was.

Everyone had gone silent to watch Michael's reaction and Gibbs had to admit that he was impressed with the total lack of shown reaction. There hadn't even been a lag before the mask had slipped over his facial featured. The transition had been automatic and seamless.

Fiona decided to help Michael out of the awkward situation. She leaned forward and pried Charlie out of Michael's frozen fingers. Fi had been the middle child of seven and she knew the right way to take care of children if they were still at the age were they slept over half the time.

Charlie opened his eyes and stretched to look up at her. "Well aren't you a handsome little boy." she cooed. "You won't remember me but I'm your Aunty Fiona. You met me when your daddy came down to visit."

Fiona looked up at Michael who looked like his brain had been put on overdrive.

He was already thinking through a lot and the image of Fi comfortably holding his nephew was monopolizing a lot of his mental state. He kicked the pace on his mental hard drive another notch and managed to recover enough to relax his muscles one at a time. He slipped behind Fiona and Charlie and tucked his arms easily around both of them. His brain was still working away. He had no clue how or if he would be able to pull of parenting.

Fiona leaned back against Michael and closed her eyes happily.

Bones had been watching the little group from her spot on the balcony beside Booth. She could see Cam, Angela, Hodgins, and Wendell watching them too from the ground level. Temperance Brennan had never been that lovey dove when it came to family scenes, but she had to admit that the sight of a man who occasionally looked like he had been carved out of an ice block looking so warmly at a woman and a baby definently touched her.

Booth seemed to e able to read her thoughts. "It's weird isn't it?" he commented as he followed her gaze.

"What's strange?"

He shrugged, "Well the fact that the little boy down their just became an orphan in the eye's of the federal government, and yet he's probably never been better taken care of." he said.

"It is sweet I suppose." she agreed. "The child shows a very similar facial bone structure to Mr. Westen. What was the relationship between them? You never told me."

"The kid is Michael's nephew." Booth informed her.

Bones nodded and went back to watching the group down below. She noticed that Sam Axe and Jesse Porter had slipped discretely to the edges of the scene. They had both taken up guard positions watching the exits and lab workers. She also noticed that while Michael now had one arm around Fiona while one hand fiddled idly with a rather large combat knife.

Bones frowned, "Should he have such a large knife in such close proximity to a young child?" she asked in confusion.

"Nah, he knows what he's doing. Besides that a military issue combat knife he's probably been trained to use one of those since he was 18." Booth said without concern.

"Are you sure?" Bones asked with concern.

Booth smiled and pulled a large combat knife from his pocket. He twirled it easily through his fingers for a moment before flipping it shut to demonstrate his point. "See? Charlie will be fine, he's got four trained killers looking out for him."

"Those to things are not sinonymous." Bones informed him. "Safe with trained killers, it's an oxymoron."

Booth shrugged. "Your safe with me." he pointed out.

Bones smiled at him. "Yes I feel very safe with you Booth." Their was a silence for a moment before Bones remembered something and frowned. "Why did you stop me from asking about Michael's hands in the interrogation? I wanted to know were all of the breaks came from."

Booth looked away. "I stopped you from asking because I recognize that type of fracture." he broke off until Bones looked at him questioningly. "It's called boxers break. It comes from punching someone too hard without knowing the military way to make a fist."

Bones was confused again. "But Michael's file says that he is highly trained in hand-to-hand combat. He would know how to punch correctly."

**A/N: Review for me! I'll do more with the plot in the next few chapters!**

Booth sighed, "I think the breaks happened before he got trained Bones. When he was a little kid." He rubbed his hands together slightly.

Bones caught the movement and examined his hands. She had noticed the remodeling but had never compared it to anything else before. Now she realized how the breaks were similar to the remodeling in Michael's. She knew that Booth had had a childhood that involved fighting. "Booth?" she asked.

"Just drop it for now Bones okay?" he said. His voice was tired and slightly strained, and so Bones let the subject go for the time being.

They were silent for a few more minutes until they heard the doors open. The minute they had, the weapons of every one on Michael's team were pointing at the intruder. The intruder turned out to be a now extremely terrified Sweets.

"Who the hell are you?" Michael asked. His automatic was still pointing at Sweets's heart.

"That is Lance Sweets." Booth told him as he walked down to the ground level of the lab. "He's a psychologist with the bureau. He's here to give you all your psych evaluations before we work together."


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I'm not rich.**

"Uh Mike? I know this is your party hear but in this situation I'm thinking we should say, hell no! You with me brother?" Sam said.

Jesse raised his hand, "I am."

"Yeah, see the thing is," Michael said, adressing the agents. "The last shrink we dealt with planted my mother's boyfreind, cut Sam off, tried to kill Jesse, blew up the British Consulate, framed Fiona for murder and terrorism, forced me to run private black ops missions, and was single handedly responsible for destrpying my life. We're not to eager to talk to a government psych analyst," he explained to the agents. "No offense kid." Michael told Sweets.

"Totally none taken." Sweets assured him. Sweets had seen the part of Michael's file that said he was like Booth minus the humor, and he was trying very hard not to be terrified of the burned spy.

Gibbs had no such qualms, "You, and your whole team are going to have to take the examination or we won't be able to work with eachother legally." he told Michael.

"Legally? When did we start worrying about legally?" Michael asked.

"Since me and the squints are all part of the FBI and Agents Gibbs, David, McGee, and DiNozzo not to mention Dr. Malard and Miss Shootough are all a part of NCIS and the FBI and NCIS are both government agancies in charge of inforcing the law." Booth pointed out.

"The squints and I, Booth," Bones corrected him.

Booth didn't acknowledge her correction. Instead he continued to stare at Michael. Booth was excellent at reading people, it was one of the things that made him such a good FBI agent, and Michael's ability to pull a total poker face no matter what the situation was annoying him. He wanted to know how Michael's thought process worked, and as much as he hated to admit it, Sweets was good at his job.

Michael was weighing out his options. He could either say no and forsake government help witch could be immensely valuable to the success of the operation, or he could spend over three hours of boaring mid numbing psychological evaluations from a kid who looked like he had just gotten out of school and roll into this mission with all possible help from two diferent government agencies.

Fiona rolled her eyes, "We don't really need government help Michael." she told him quietly. "I say let them wonder about what's going on in our pretty little heads while we go and figure out who's killing off distantly realted members of your family with automatic weapons. I have plenty of C4 in the car." she suggested.

"I'm not really looking to torch the countries capital Fi." he told her.

"You're no fun Michael," Fiona complained.

"Mike, I'm with Fi on this one," Jesse told him.

Michael closed his eyes and forced his jaw to relax. He took three deep breaths and felt his heart beet slow slightly. He opened his eyes again, "We need their resources."

"Mike-" Jesse started.

Michael cut him off by raising his hand, "Hear me out Jess. We do these evaluations, but we play it close to the vest."

"No Chatty Kathy's I get that, but we gotta give these guys something or we're gonna be until Christmas." Sam pointed out.

"How about we go the Landon approach?" Michael suggested.

Sam and Jesse both nodded their agreement. Fiona shot Michael a questioning look with her eyebrows raised. It was her 'you-had-better-explain-now, look.

Sam caught the look and decided to explain so Michael didn't have to. "It's this technique a guy name Jack Landon came up with. The guy went totally psycho after a mission and he knew he wasn't going to make the psyche grade but he was a brilliant son of a bitch so he figured out how to get a hold of the psycologically safe answeres and memorized them. So when he went in for the interveiw he had all the perfect answers for the shrinks."

"And you all know the safe answeres do you?" Fiona asked skeptically. They all nodded. "Good, so who feels like sharing with me?"

Michael, Sam, and Jesse exchanged looks and Fiona could see the silent arguement.

Fion sighed, "Fine, I'll just do my best. I'm perfectly stable."

Sam covered his laugh with a cough that turned into a chocking sound and Fiona glared at him.

Michael turned and raised his voice so that the agents could hear him again, "Fine. We'll do it, but my mom stays here with Charlie."

Gibbs looked at Booth and he nodded. Gibbs turned back to Michael, "We can do that." he told him.

"Good," Michael said. "Now let's get out of here. I don't want to waste anymore time than I have to." He started to walk forward. "Fi, give Charlie to my mom. I think four years is a little young for a first visit to the J Edgar Hoover Building."

* * *

Two and a half hours and three interviews later, Sweets was considering putting in for a pay raise. Sam and Jesse had answered the psyche assessment questions with answers that were almost word for word accurate from the psychology handbook. Not to mention the fact that they were delivered with not to small an edge of mockery.

Fiona Glennane had given answers that definitely indicated attention deficiency, violent tendencies, and a lack of impulse control but her psychiatric health she was fine.

Now he was staring at Michael Westen after delivering the standard psychiatric check. Michael had deadpanned the answers without even bothering to make eye contact. Sweets needed to figure out more about Michael which meant watching him to ask the right questions.

Michael's eyes took another flip around the room and Sweets picked up on it. He had noticed that it was almost a constant movement for Michael. His eyes never rested in one place for longer than about fifteen seconds.

"Why do you do that?" Sweets asked.

Michael's eyes flipped over to the psychologist for a moment before they moved away again. "Do what?" he asked.

"Move your eyes from place to place. You never focus your eyes on one point." Sweets replied.

Michael shrugged. "Habit."

"How did that habit develop?" Sweets pried. He was sensing an opening in the defenses.

Michael considered for a moment before deciding to tell the truth. "Training. Operatives are trained to go into situations and find all the exits, weapons, threats, surveillance, and points of weakness."

"So why do you keep on checking? This room hasn't changed." Sweets pointed out. Michael just shrugged again. "Your file says that you are good at tactical analysis. What exactly does that mean?" he pried.

"It means I'm good at seeing angles. I see what people want and use it to make them act how I want them to. It also means I'm good at figuring out the dynamics of a situation and using them to my advantage." Michael explained.

Sweets nodded. Psychologically the eye movement made sense if Michael thought of things in terms of angles and connections. Moving his eyes between objects was his way of affirming connections to be manipulated and controlled. It also told him that Michael would never be backed into a corner. He would have back up plan, after back up plan, after back up plan, and every single one of them would be viable.

Now Sweets only had one more question. "Why do you do what you do Mr. Westen? You don't work for a government, and your only personal connections are never more than one phone call away from helping you. You've found the people who ruined your life. So what else are you doing this for?" he asked.

Michael sighed, "What does anyone do anything for? When I lost my government job I stopped pulling a pay check, living costs money. No identity means I can't exactly fill out a W2." Michael sighed deeply. "My skill set is pretty specific, and their are lot's of people who will pay for a person with specific skills to solve their specific problems, and they don't have a problem with paying for it."

Sweets was surprised at the way Michael spoke about what he did. His voice was cold and completely devoid of emotional depth. When Sweets found his voice he said, "That's pretty harsh."

Michael looked Sweets straight in the eyes. They always changed color, but to Sweets they were flat, icy, dark blue, and dangerous. The sight froze Sweets in his tracks.

Michael looked at him for another moment before saying, "That's life." he let out a sigh. "Are we done yet? I have some angry killers I need to go see."

Sweets nodded mutely and Michael left. Sweets looked down at the papers and he felt like it was someone else doing it, as he saw his hand trace out his signature in dark blue ink.

**A/N: Hey! Sorry about the time lag but I had other work I had to do. I'm thinking the next chapters might involve a not so dead Larry and maybe some angry Russians. Review for me!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them**

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby squealed. She bounced up to him beaming. She had traded out her normal white lab coat for one of the blue ones that the Jeffersonian wore. The color clashed jarringly with her pale skin, black hair, and red plaid skirt. Her hair was in it's normal pig tails. "This place is amazing! I would kill for like, a quarter of this equipment!"

"Abby."

"Seriously, I love Major Mass Spec but this equipment-"

"Abby!" Gibbs cut her off. "What have you got?"

Abby sighed and went over to Angela. "Ang! Fire up the mega screen."

"Okay, here we are," Angela said. She pressed a few buttons on her control tablet and a mess of coding came up on the screen.

To Gibbs it looked like nothing but alphabet soup mixed with ones and zeros. He squinted to try and make sense of the mess. "What the hell is all that?" he asked.

"That Agent Gibbs," Angela said. "Is Michael Westen's life."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Yeah I know that I just thought we had gotten past the part were it's nothing but gibberish."

"We did Gibbs," Abby piped up. Gibbs waited for her to come farther towards the point. "This is just the god part. It's kind of like the directors cut of a movie. You get all of the good bits that you normally miss."

"Only we can't read it." Gibbs summed up with exasperation.

"No."

He raised his eyebrows. "Where's the good part here Abbs?"

"Coming Gibbs, patients is a virtue. Angela, McGee, and I have designed a program that will take this gibberish and turn it into a full on biography." Abby explained with a grin.

"And when are we unavailing this movie?" Gibbs asked with a small smile.

Abby smiled again. "You've just caught the premier."

"What's all this about premiers and movies?" Tony asked as he entered the room. He even had a boll of popcorn ready to go.

"Tony!" Abby squealed. "Your right in time for the world premier of La Vida de Super Spy." She caught sight of the popcorn. "And you come bearing snacks! Did you remember refreshments?"

Tony pulled a large Caf-Pow from behind his back and presented it with a flourish. "I did my lady."

"Thank you kind sir."

Tony turned towards Angela. "And for the other lovely lady with the computers an extra foamy mocha-chino For the Elf Lord I have a de-caf, and for the boss man, one extra large black."Tony produced the beverages from a cup carrier and took a sip from his own drink.

Angela blew him a kiss and started up the computer program. The letters and numbers began to shift into readable sentences and processable information. Tony let out a long whistle. Along with the information that they had already learned there were pages upon pages of black ops and missions. Averted bombings, dead terrorists, taken down cartels, destroyed KGB units, and people beaten into the kind of pulp that gets packed into sausages. There was more to, so so much more. It was awing, and terrifying.

"Gibbs, if even half of this stuff is correct, then the guy being interviewed by Sweets is probably one of the most dangerous operatives in the world."

"Yeah," Gibbs said with a sigh. "Or one of the best men who's had to do some of the worst things for the best reasons." After that Gibbs stepped closer to the doors. He had seen most of what he needed to see from a file. Now he would have to watch the actual man.

"That only leaves us with one question then," said Booth's voice from the other door making everybody except Gibbs jump. "Which one is he."

That was greeted by absolute silence for several long moments as the question hung ominously in the air.

"Is their anyone who might really really want Westen killed? I mean, more than the rest of them." McGee asked. "Did he let anything slip to you agent Booth?"

Booth thought. "Not in particular but I heard him mention to his girlfreind that the only place where more people wanted him killed than D.C was Russia."

"And in defense of the Russians I can't blame them. According to this file Michael took out more Russian bad guys in six months than a whole team had managed in three years. Their are probably a lot of people who want him dead from over there."

"Where is Westen and the rest of his crew?" Gibbs asked Booth.

"Michael, Sam, and Fiona are being driven here by agent Cole as we speak. He called to say they were leaving about five minutes ago but they probably hit traffic around this time of day." Booth answered. "Misses Westen is taking care of Charlie with Miss David, Bones and Cam. Their enjoying spoiling the little guy."

Tony shuddered. "Ziva with paternal instincts. I'm still having nightmares."

"Well I think Charlie could use a playmate. I'm going to introduce him to Michael Vincent when work is over." Angela put in before exclaiming. "Jesus Christ over seven languages? Who speaks that many?"

"What are the languages? I only saw a few mentioned earlier." McGee asked with a sudden interest.

"Gaelic, Russian, German, Farsi, Pashtu, Spanish-"

"That last ones a lie." said Michael's voice as he Sam and Fi walked through the door. "I've never been able to speak Spanish."

Angela was confused. "But you've lived in Miami for over half your life. How can you not speak Spanish?"

Michael glared at her using the look he had patented during the six months when he was stationed in Nigeria to deal with gun runners. Angela shrank back in to her chair. That look was freaking terrifying. Then Michael turned back to the screen. "I see you guys have been enjoying reading about my life, can we get down to who's trying to kill everyone in it?"

"Do you have any leads?" Gibbs asked.

Jesse handed over a tape. "Put that in the player. It's the surveillance tape from Ruth's apartment." he told them.

Angela played the tape. The screen was blank for a while and Angela fast forwarded the tape until a figure came into view. "Wait!" Jesse shouted. "Stop it right there."

A face was in view. "Chechik." Michael groaned.

"Who?" Booth asked.

"Chechik is an ex KGB general who really wants me dead." Abby handed Angela a five dollar bill because Angela had bet that the Russians wanted Michael dead the most. "We thought we had taken care of him but apparently not." Michael explained.

"Who's that with him?" Gibbs asked, pointing at another figure in the frame.

Angela backed up the tape to reveal a smug face smiling straight into the camera like the Cheshire Cat. Fiona gasped, Jesse and Sam stiffened, and Michael let out a long sigh.

"Larry."

**A/N: Reviews are amazing!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Only in my dreams**

Michael, Sam, and Jesse spent some good quality time explaining their group's history with Larry and Chechik to the government agents and it was well into the night before everyone disbanded to find work stations or couches to pass out on.

Michael advised that non one go back to their houses until Larry and Chechik were caught incase they knew Michael was working with the government. Booth and the squint squad had just shrugged. They spent lots of nights at the lab anyway. Gibbs had considered expressionlessly for a moment before nodding to Tony and McGee.

Gibbs and Jesse had crashed in the lounge above the lab and Booth and Sam had been invited to Hodgins office for some alcohol consumption. Michael figured that Sam would be fine. He had a high enough alcohol tolerance to be able to cope tomorrow without to bad of a hangover the next day.

Angela had slipped out to join Dr. Brennan in girl talk with Fiona and Ziva a long time ago, and McGee was back to illegally hacking government servers to find out more about Larry and Chechik.

That left Michael with Tony. He sighed and turned to the NCIS agent. "Did Ziva tell you were she was going?" he asked.

"Going for what?" Tony asked in confusion. "Oh right, 'girl talk'." he shuddered. "Is that terrifying or what? Anyway, I think she said they were going to Dr. Brennan's office."

"Okay then," Michael said, rubbing his eyes slightly tiredly. He started to walk in a random direction before pausing and backpedaling. "Where is that again?"

"Um..." Tony spun on the spot. "That way," he said pointing.

Michael nodded and started walking again. He paused for a moment and looked back over his shoulder. "Are you coming or what?" he called.

Tony blinked a few times and tried to fire up his over tired brain, "Why would I be coming?" he asked Michael in confusion. He started walking anyway just because he felt like it was probably the right thing for him to do.

"Because this is a two man job. I'll be extracting Fiona but that still leaves Montenegro, Soroyan, Brennan, and David to rope her back in. If you can get Ziva clear then we only have Angela, Cam, and Brennan to worry about. If we stop by Dr. Hodgins office and recruit the others then I think we can get everyone out without resorting to chloroform." Michael answered without breaking stride.

"Okay a few questions. One, do you look at everything like a military mission? Two, won't Fiona be pissed at you if you knock her out? And three where do you plan to get chloroform?" Michael asked as they went.

Michael sighed and sped up his pace. "I look at things like a military mission because I know how to handle those and Fiona has been plenty pissed off at me before I'd deal." he explained.

"What about where to find the chloroform?" Tony questioned further.

"Here," Michael answered as he casually picked the lock on a door marked medical supplies. "Let's see... chloroform, chloroform. Ah! Right here." Michael said swiping a bottle of white liquid off of the bottom shelf of the supply cabinet and shaking it so that the contents sloshed. "Okay let's go."

Tony opened his mouth to ask a question, but he ended up deciding he didn't actually want to know the answer since it probably wouldn't make any type of sense to him anyway. Michael slipped out of the supply closet and shut the door behind him.

They walked together towards Hodgins's office. As they got closer they could hear Booth and Sam filling each other in on the cases and jobs they had pulled since the last time they had seen each other. Hodgins was filling in details that Booth forgot. When they got even closer Michael smiled at the story Sam was telling. It was the story of when they had all pretended to be high end car thieves to take out some gang members who were hunting down a football player and his little sister.

"Hey Mikey! Hey DiNozzo." Sam called. "You're right in time I was just about to break out the Ojo for Dr. Hodgins. Want a shot DiNozzo?"

Tony glanced over at Michael and Booth. "Do I want a shot?"

"No!" Booth and Michael both told him vehemently. They had both had personal experience with that particular brand of alcohol and neither of them were particularly eager for a repeat of the experience. You would have to get both of them really _really_ hammered before they would be willing to try that again, and whole they were both tired, they weren't quite to that point yet.

Michael leaned against the desk and shut his eyes until his ears were greeted with the sounds of spluttering and choking. Then he opened his eyes and took in the wobbling form of the entomologist. "Is he to drunk to help?"

Booth appraised him. "Yeah probably. What do you need help with?"

"Well it's," Michael checked his watch. "11:45 at night. Fi and the others have been talking for about three hours, and if you guys don't come to help us extract everyone then we have to go with plan B." Michael said holding up the chloroform for Sam and Booth to see.

"No worries brother. We'll help." Sam said. He and Booth both got up and walked with Michael and Tony towards the door. Booth took the lead to get them successfully to Dr. Brennans office. As they got closer they could hear the conversation.

When they entered the office, the first thing that Michael noticed was that no one was holding Charlie, and his mother was no where to be found. "Fi? Fi!" Fiona ignored him. "Fiona Glennane! Where are Charlie and my mom?"

"Oh relax Michael. Your mother is sleeping on a couch in the staff lounge and Charlie is asleep in the top drawer of the filing cabinet." then she went back to her conversation.

"You put a baby in a- never mind." he spluttered

Sam looked at him sympathetically and offered him the bottle of Ojo. Michael shook his head and walked quickly to the open drawer and looked in to find Charlie passed out happily next to another baby with a small sprouting of curly hair. He let out a sigh of relief that neither baby seemed to be particularly asfixiated.

He turned around to see that all of his freinds had been sucked into the little group. Sam looked pleasently surprised to be seated next to Cam. Ziva curled up next to Tony who looked like someone had handed him a time bomb, and Booth had placed a protective arm around Bones's shoulders. Michael decided to give up for now and slipped into the seat next to Fiona.

Angela was heckling Fi. "So tell us how you met Michael." she prodded.

"Or how about don't," Michael suggested.

"Oh come on!" Angela prodded. "You heard the story about how I met Hodgins. Ziva told about how she met Tony, and you heard about how Tempe and Booth got drunk and made out during the first case they ever worked together."

Booth made a gagging sound, "You told them?" he hissed at Bones.

Bones shrugged and curled further into Booth's side. "Angela and Cam are my best friends, I tell them lot's of things and I found gossiping with Ziva and Fiona very soothing."

Booth groaned and gratefully took the bottle Booth offered him. He took a swig of the alcohol and grimaced and waited for the more pleasant effects to set in.

Fi smiled. "Well I was at a bar in Dublin when Michael walked up to me and said-" Fi looked to him to help her tell the story.

Michael rolled his eyes but complied. He let his voice slip into a lilting Irish Brough and said, "Would you care to dance?"

"That's right." Fiona said with a smile. "Do you remember what happened next?"

"Yeah, you threatened to shoot me." Michael said with another eye roll.

"But I didn't," Fi pointed out.

"What happened next?" Angela asked happily.

Michael shrugged, "I said, 'I suppose that means yes'."

"Did you use that accent to?" Booth asked. The alcohol having not yet taken effect at this point.

Michael nodded. "It was part of my cover ID."

"When did you find out Fi?" Sam asked. He had never heard this story before.

Fiona smirked. "Michael talks in his sleep sometimes. I figured it would be hard to sleep talk with an American accent for someone who was actually from Cullcunny."

All of the girls laughed and Michael groaned. He tipped his head back against the chair and tried to ignore the noise so he could fall asleep but it wasn't working.

Michael turned to Booth. " Just give me the god damn alcohol." he sighed.

**A/N: What did you think? Review for me!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: They're just on loan to me for a while. Did you know you can rent characters at the library?**

The next morning Booth woke up feeling a bit fuzzy headed but otherwise not to bad given the amount of alcohol he had consumed. All around him he could hear the sounds of quiet even breathing. His neck and back were feeling sore, and his eyelids felt sticky from sleep.

He could feel a warm weight on his chest. He cracked an eye open with effort and found that it was Bones's head. She was curled up next to him on the couch like a cat with her head on his chest. He didn't mind very much. He filed this away into his fact database that said that a sleepy Bones was a cuddly Bones.

He yawned and stretched as best he could without jolting Bones and looked around the room. Everyone had conked out on the couches were they had been sitting before they had fallen asleep. Sam and Cam were lying on the couch a few feet away from he and Bones. Ziva and Tony were on the other couch.

He looked for Michael and Fiona and found them curled up in one of the chairs. Fiona was asleep but Michael was awake watching her and playing with a few strands of hair. He looked up, almost like he felt Booth watching and gave slight smile. He held a finger to his lips for Booth to stay quiet and then turned his attention back to Fi.

Booth mouthed, _Charlie?_ He didn't see the baby anywhere and he didn't hear any crying so he figured someone had to be looking after him.

Michael mouthed back, _My mom. _

Time ticked by slowly and the sun came creeping in the windows. Michael checked his watch and sighed. Time to call up the cavalry. "Fi," he called softly. "Fi it's time to wake up."

Fiona grumbled and curled further into the chair. "Oh come on Fi!" he whispered in slight exasperation. "It's morning and I need your help to blow up Chechik and Dead Larry."

"What? huh?" Fiona said with a start. She looked back at Michael, "I'm up," she told him. When all Michael did was try to hold back a smile, Fiona gave him a sleepy glare and crashed her head back into the couch cushion.

Michael grinned and shook her again. Fiona grumbled louder, "Michael I swear to god unless you need me to shoot and or run away from something I swear to god I will handcuff you to your chair until it is a descent time of the morning to get up at."

"It is a decent time Fi." he told her.

Fiona grabbed Michael's wrist to check his watch. When she saw that the time shown there was 6:22 she rolled over and glared up at him. "I know you were in the morning Michael. Where the privileged of sleeping until five o'clock is considered sleeping in, but for us regular people, 6:22 is not a reasonable time to be waking up in the morning!" she hissed. "Try again at 7:30, or better yet 8 o'clock." she rolled back over and Michael raised his eyes to the ceiling.

Booth laughed silently for a bit until he remembered that he now had to wake up Bones. He looked down at her and shook her slightly. "Hey, Bones. Wakey wakey." Bones sat up and rubbed her eyes yawning. "What time is it?" she asked him blearily.

"About 6:23," he informed her.

"Coffee," Bones muttered. "Need some coffee," she tried to stand several times but was still to stiff from sleeping and on the last time Booth had to catch her and sit her back down. She looked at him, "Will you go get me Coffee?"

He gave her a grin. "All you had to do was ask Bones." he told her. Then he stood up and stretched, then went to go get coffee for everybody.

When he returned Michael had managed to get everyone else was dispersing to change into new clothes. Several people were half way between being dressed and wearing pajamas. Michael was the only one who looked fully awake. He had already changed into a new set of slacks and a blue button down shirt.

Booth handed Michael one of the cups of coffee. Michael nodded in thanks. Sam was the next person into the room and was also rewarded with a cup of coffee.

"Cheers buddy." he said clinking the plastic cup against Booth's and Michael's.

Everyone else came in after a bit wearing fresh clothes and looking much more awake. Booth handed out coffee to people as they came through the doors and soon everyone was watching Michael expectantly.

Sam turned and asked, "So what now brother?"

"Now we go find the others and go get rid of the bastards who have been giving me hell for way to long of a time."

* * *

"That plan is nuts." Tony informed Michael. It was about an hour and a half later and Michael had just finished explaining his plan to get rid of both Larry and Chechik. It made sense form a military standpoint so Booth, Ziva, and Gibbs had no problem with it, and Fiona, Sam, and Jesse were used to trusting Michael's judgment when it came to planning. However, most of the general con census was with Tony.

"It makes sense actually," Jesse told them.

"How does putting yourself out in the open for two guys who want you dead plus all of their heavily armed friends make sense as a good plan?" Cam asked.

"Sometimes their's no way to be out of the line of fire," Michael explained. "When that's the case then the only thing you can do is control the firing range and make sure the people shooting hit each other before they can hit you. By drawing Larry and Chechik out, I'm controlling the firing range."

"So your picking were you get shot. How does that help?" Hodgins asked somewhat grouchily. He had drunk a substantial amount more than the others, and was nursing a hangover.

"If I pick the spot I can set up back up."

" I get the principal behind the plan," Booth said. " I'm just wondering how they are going to know where to find you."

"With this," Michael said. He held up his cell phone. "They'll be trying to track this, which is why I need you three," he looked at Angela, Abby, and McGee. "To boost the signal on the phone so that Larry and Chechik can pick up the frequency when I need them to. Don't make it to obvious, I don't want them getting suspicious."

"This is all fine Michael," Maddy interrupted "But you still haven't explained how you plan on getting out of this without getting shot!"

"I'm not." Michael said simply. He held up a hand to stop the protests. "I don't mean actually get shot. I just need a fake to look convincing. Your the marksman right?" he addressed Booth. "I'm counting on you to realistically fake shoot me."

Booth nodded easily. "I'm going to need to know distances and the type of rifle."

"Done."

"What do you need me for Mr. Westen?" Ducky asked.

"I need you and Dr. Soroyan to work with Fi to make a specific type of shell. The idea is like a water shell only you're not going to use water."

"What are we using instead Michael?" Fiona asked.

"Blood." Everyone spluttered in protest. "Look okay. Larry and Chechik aren't going to buy just a squib and I need them to get close and think they've won. The shell won't hurt me, and the blood will replicate the gunshot wound."

"Where are we getting the blood from?" Cam asked. "I highly doubt we can just ask any old donor."

Michael shrugged, "It might as well be mine. I'm hoping it never gets to that point anyway."

"What do you mean Mike?" Sam asked.

"Rig me up with a dead mans switch. Not an actual one, but I hope it'll keep them from getting to the point were they shoot me."

"What do you need the rest of us to do?" Gibbs asked.

Michael turned to him, "I need you guys to get rid of all of the back up, and if things start to go wrong, I'm trusting you guys to take down Larry and Chechik before they can hurt anyone."

Michael turned away and fixed his gaze on a point none of the rest of them could see. Fiona knew he was seeing the angles. Watching all of the lines of motion come into play and intersect with each other in a diagram that only made sense to him.

Michael sighed as he felt the last pieces clicking. One way or another, this whole thing would end today.

**A/N: Okay so you see that little button down at the bottom of the screen? The one that says review? Well I am begging you for the love of yogurt just freaking click it! Okay, I'm done now. Reviews are rainbows and lollipops.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Yeah, not owned by me.**

Michael Westen was working hard to keep his face calm and impassive. Most people would assume that his internal nerves were from the height he was standing at. He was, after all, on the rooftop of a very tall warehouse building in a mostly abandoned part of D.C. The only thing was that Michael was not, nor had he ever been, afraid of heights.

The real reason for the slight twisty feeling in his gut was that there were at least a few dozen snipers aiming at him and only eight of them were actually on his side, and he had given one of them explicit instructions to shoot him. And, it didn't exactly warm the cockles of his heart to know that four to five of the ones he trusted were probably considering just shooting him on principle.

He looked down at the tiny detonator in his palm. He examined the tiny switch on the top. This particular detonator wasn't attached to any explosives, but just because it wasn't attached to any explosives didn't mean there weren't any. He just wasn't holding the detonator, Fiona was.

_"Just in case." _That's what he had told her. The truth though was that he was pretty much sick of the whole mess with Larry and Chechik and he was taking every possible measure to be sure that this finished.

"You okay down there Westen?" agent Gibbs asked through the ear piece.

"Yeah I'm good," Michael replied.

"Good. Now stop pacing around down there before I decide to just shoot you," he ordered.

Michael stopped moving and performed a check in. "How are the surrounding buildings looking?"

He was greeted with the sounds of grunts and whacks sounding over the line before Ziva replied, "Under control."

Michael debated asking a question about what had just happened, but then decided it didn't matter as long as the building was clear.

All Michael could do now was wait. He didn't even turn around when the door to the roof swung open with a bang. His only reaction was to tighten the muscles in his back and arms.

"Kid! How the hell are you sport?" Came the cheery maniacal voice of Larry Siezmore.

"Larry," Michael acknowledged turning slowly to meet his former mentor's gaze. "I'd be a whole lot better if I hadn't just inherited a nephew, thanks so much for that little gift."

"Yeah sorry about little Ruthy but I had to find some way to get your attention. How is little Charlie by the way he looked like such a cute kid." Larry said with a grin.

"He's fine," Michael answered. "He's started calling me daddy."

"Hey what about that," Larry said spreading his hands in a _voilà _gesture. "Guess I just gave you a kick start on a family sport. I guess I should have brought you some nice balloons."

"Next time I guess," Michael bit out.

Larry shrugged. "You wouldn't have had time to enjoy them anyway. It really is to bad that I have to kill you so soon we were just catching up."

"Yeah it sure is a shame. Now speaking of people who want me dead, where is my good friend Chechik?"

"Have you been missing me Michael?" Came Chechik's voice seconds before the man himself appeared on the rooftop.

"Chechik nice to see you. Have you been getting enough iron you look kind of pale?" Michael quipped.

Booth couldn't help but chuckle despite the serious nature of the situation. He adjusted his aim on the rifle so that it was pointed at just the right spot on Michael's body. Any minute now...

"Oh Westen how I cannot wait to pick through that brain of yours before I cut it off of you." Chechik threatened.

"Oooo," Michael said with mock concern as he took a tiny step back. "One wants to shoot me the other wants information. Looks like you guys are going to need to learn about the art of sharing."

"Well there's no reason our little Russian friend can't torture you for information before I shoot you," Larry said reasonably.

"Oh come on Larry we both no you aren't that patient besides," Michael said, taking another step backwards. Right into the cross hairs of Booth's sniper rifle. "Somebody else just beet you to it."

* * *

Booth took that for his que, and without thinking twice, he pulled the trigger. There was a muffled pop as the shell left the gun but Booth didn't wait to see if the bullet had done its job. He already knew it had hit its target.

He broke down his rifle with easy, practiced speed and dropped it into a black duffle bag. He swung the bag over his shoulder. "Time to go guys," he said over his com's unit.

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "We have some crazy guys to arrest for multiple homicide."

* * *

Down on the roof Larry and Chechik rushed towards Michael's supposedly dead body. They had heard the shot fired. They had seen the blood spurt from the shot but they both wanted conformation that Michael was actually dead.

Larry kicked Michael over so that he was facing upwards and had to admit that it was pretty convincing. Michael wasn't breathing and there was blood spattered across his shoulder, chest, and face. There was even some glugging from a space just above his clavicle were the shot must have hit.

Chechik leaned down and caught some of the blood on his fingers. He sniffed it and turned to Larry. "It is real. Westen is dead."

Larry leaned down closer. "I still have to check. I'll take the kid's pulse." His fingers closed around Michael's wrist and felt for the tiny beat of a pulse. Before he could ever find it, Michael's hand spun and grabbed around Larry's wrist.

Michael bent Larry's wrist all the way back and twisted with all of his power. He felt the sickening snap of the bone and then launched the heel of his hand upward into his nose. Then he rolled quickly, grabbing Larry's gun as he went and the bullet that Chechik had fired missed by a matter of inches. He kicked Chechiks feet out from under him and stood up holding the gun in his hands. It was loaded, safety off, ready to kill.

"Larry, Chechik, enjoy prison. If your good I might bring you some nice balloons," he said panting slightly.

"You can't arrest us Kid you're not a cop," Larry protested through the blood pouring from his nose.

"Oh I know I can't," Michael said. He pointed towards the door that had just swung open to show Booth, Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, and McGee, all with guns pointed and badges showing. "Agent Gibbs, Agent Booth, they're all yours."

When the agents drew level with him he popped the bullets out of the gun his hands shaking slightly and backed up. Michael looked down and examined the blood pooling under his shirt. "Once your done with that, do you think you could get one of those doctors you work with to stitch this? Maybe get me some ibuprofen?"

Fiona and Sam ran up to him and slipped under his arms to help support his weight. Fiona examined the wound and found that it didn't really match the shape of a gunshot. "Michael what did you do?" she asked. She was barely keeping the fury out of her voice.

"It's not deep Fi. Nothing a couple of stitches and some medical tape won't solve." Michael assured her.

"Jesus Mike!" Jesse exclaimed. "What the hell did you do to yourself?"

"Larry wasn't just going to buy some exploding blood along with a shot. There needed to be some blood actually coming from me." Michael stopped to catch a breath. "So, I cut open the old gun shot wound from that time when Jesse shot me. When I fell I pulled off the bandage."

Fiona smacked Michael across the face and then kissed him before she, Sam, and Jesse helped him away towards were Cam and Ducky were waiting to patch him up.

Gibbs chuckled and then turned towards Tony. "Tony what's rule 12."

"Never ever date a coworker," Tony said without missing a beat.

"Right," Gibbs looked from Tony to Ziva. "And what's rule 63?"

Tony was even more confused now, "Rule 63?"

Gibbs smiled. "Sometimes your wrong." He watched Tony's incredulous expression for a moment before turning and starting to walk away.

"What are you saying Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs called over his shoulder to answer. "I'm telling DiNozzo to get his head on straight before I have to come back there and slap it that way."

"Got it Boss!" Tony called with a happy grin.

"What did you get?" Ziva was still confused.

Tony just kissed her for a response. When he pulled away and wasn't slapped he asked, "Ziva, have you ever seen Casa Blanca?"

"No," Ziva replied.

"You will," he stated. "Some time soon I will make McGee rent M-Tac and we will watch Casa Blanca with popcorn.

Ziva smiled, "Okay."

And with that they helped Booth loud Larry and Chechik into the FBI van.

**A/N: How was that for a nice little end of Larry and Chechik? And I have accomplished mission Tiva. See Don? It wasn't that painful. Anyway, review for me! I think that there will be one more chapter, but if people want, this can be the end.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: In an alternate universe these characters are all mine. But, because we are sadly stuck in this universe, I own nothing.**

"What do you think of German for a honey moon spot?" Fiona asked Michael while the couple waited in the FBI headquarters for Booth to finish making his official report about Larry's arrest.

"Ooooo Germany. A few too many people want me dead over there. How about Venice? I don't think I've ever pissed off any Italians." Michael suggested.

"That could be nice," Fiona agreed. "Gelato, gondolas, lovely views, nice beaches. Italy sounds wonderful."

"Oh are you two planning a romantic vacation?" Madeline asked as she entered the room. She had only heard the end of the conversation and still didn't know that Michael and Fiona were getting married.

"Well I hope it's romantic. Honey moons are meant to be that way," Fiona commented without thinking.

Michael winced and braced himself for the firestorm that he knew would be coming. He thought it would be starting in five, four, three, two, one-

"You two are getting married! When was this established?!" Madeline exclaimed.

"Mike? Can you come in here for a minute?" Booth called from his office.

"Oh thank god." Michael sighed in relief as he jumped up from his seat and slipped into the office. He had long ago mastered the art of ignoring Fiona's death glare. It was quiet a feat really. Few people had the mental shielding required.

When the door closed behind him Gibbs asked, "You didn't tell your mother you got engaged?"

"Not exactly," Michael hedged awkwardly.

Gibbs nodded and walked towards the door.

Michael relaxed when it looked like he was in the clear only to feel a sharp pain in the back of his head. "Ow! What the hell?!" he exclaimed turning around. Gibbs smiled smugly at him and then walked out the door. Michael continued to rub his head in pain. He felt sorry for Tony after that. Being hit that way had to damage your mental capacity after a while.

"So everything is wrapped up now," Booth said as he kicked back in his chair. "Larry and Chechik were remove to a high level holding facility no trial, no bail. You shouldn't have to worry about them ever again."

"So is this just a congratulatory meeting?" Michael asked. "Because I have things I have to take care of."

"Wedding planning right." Booth nodded. "No this meeting is actually about Charlie. Are you going to raise him?"

Michael sighed and sat down across from Booth. "I wish I could."

"Why can't you?"

Michael looked at him like it should have been obvious. "I don't legally exist agent Booth. People who don;t legally exist can't have legal custody of children."

"I wouldn't have thought that would be much of an issue for someone like you," Booth said with a shrug.

"Maybe it wouldn't be at some point. But there's that whole school thing kids are supposed to do." Michael explained. "Maybe by the time Charlie gets old enough for a tutor, but until then I can't legally take care of him. Besides, even if I had an identity, you still have to pass an inspection, and most of what I do isn't exactly legal and that's putting it mildly."

"Well in terms of the identity thing I think I can help." Booth said. he pulled a large file out of his cabinet and dropped it in front of Michael. "Now this doesn't get you off of the black list, but it gives you access to the accounts that got frozen when you got burned, plus the paychecks you would have collected over the last seven years. It also brings everything you did before joining the CIA back into existence."

"How did you do this?" Michael managed to say. He was having trouble making his brain process what he was saying and hearing.

"Well as it turns out Secretary of the Navy plus director of the FBI trumps head of the CIA," Booth said with a grin. He had gotten the pleasure of listening to the conversation that had caused these changes and it had been extremely entertaining.

Michael was still looking over every single paper in the stack like he was worried that it was a forgery.

Booth noticed this. "You never take a good thing at face value do you?" he asked.

"When you live the way I do for long enough you learn to watch out for the strings attached," Michael explained. "Now this all seems a little to good to be true. So agent Booth, what's the string?"

Booth shifted uncomfortably. "It's not a very big one. You just need to agree to consult on FBI and CIA cases from time to time. You'd get paid and everything. It's a bit like Bones's job, only your more likely to get shot at."

Michael nodded and looked back over the paper. As catches went it really wasn't that bad. "Okay fine I'll help when I have to. But I'm bringing, Sam, Fi, and Jesse when it happens." he stood up. "Is there anything else?"

"I just have to know where Charlie is going to be staying."

"My mom will have legal custody," Michael responded as he sat back down. He had talked it over with Fiona and Madeline earlier. "The rest of us will all take turns taking care of him."

Booth smiled a bit. "Just makes sure he learns addition before he learns how to make explosives."

"I make no promises." Michael said darkly. "I will however, keep him away from guns until he's developed some motor control."

"That sounds smart," Booth agreed.

Michael smiled a bit. "Do you have kids agent Booth?"

"Yeah I have a son named Parker." Booth answered. he wasn't sure where this conversation was going but it had certainly piqued his interest.

"Does he know what you do?" Michael asked.

"Not really." Booth answered. "He knows the bare essentials but not much more. I try to keep him away from what I do as much as possible."

"Yeah well, that won't be an option for Charlie, and it won't be an option for any other kids I might have." Michael said. "My life has too many curve balls for that. So, the way I see it, if I can't keep them away from the curve balls the least I can do is make sure they know how to hit them." Michael stood up and stretched.

He was half way to the door before he remembered something and stopped. "Fi told me to tell you that you and everyone from NCIS are invited to the wedding. You can bring Doctor Brennan too if you guys aren't on your own honey moon by then." Michael joked.

His response was the sound of Booth choking on the Coffee he had just sipped.

Michael grinned. "Have a good day agent Booth. I'll see you soon."

Then he turned, and walked out the door.

**A/N: The end! People were clamouring for a head slap so you got one. I think I tied up everything that needed to be tied up, and I left it so I can do a sequel if I want. I hope you all enjoyed this story. Review for me!**


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